


The Phosphenes in our Hearts

by The_Amarathine_Carrion



Series: Trans Felix AU [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Autistic Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Established Relationship, Eventual Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Less of that so far but just to be safe, M/M, Mention of other pairings but very Sylvix focused, Miscarriage, Misgendering, Mpreg, Please read the tags this does not start out as a happy fic, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trans Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, Transphobia, Traumatic phone calls, We need that to become a tag, hurt sylvain, no beta we die like Glenn, pregnancy loss, sylvix - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:21:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 44,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21942817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Amarathine_Carrion/pseuds/The_Amarathine_Carrion
Summary: “Listen..” Felix breathes when they part, “I..want to try..” Sylvain waits for him to elaborate, doing his best to keep an impassive face while Felix settles his nerves— looking to Felix’s lips so that he doesn’t have any additional stress from the eye contact.“..to have a..a child..with you.”
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Sylvain Jose Gautier/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Series: Trans Felix AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1578751
Comments: 111
Kudos: 257
Collections: Sylvix Squad Super Stories





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to Never Let You Go, but can technically be read without it. 
> 
> Please read the triggers in the tags, it’s a lot of pain before my boys get the ending they deserve. 💔

“I want to try.” 

Sylvain pauses at Felix’s sudden declaration, cheeks flushed, breathing labored, his dick literally inches from Felix’s slick entrance. Felix’s face is turned toward the sheets, his hands grasping weakly at them, fisting the loose sides that have inched their way toward the middle during their lovemaking. He seems nervous, but not so much that it’s killed his arousal, his body still twitching under Sylvain’s touch. 

“Try what? Do you have a new position in mind?” Sylvain raises his eyebrows suggestively at his husband.

“No. You insatiable pervert.”

His eyes flicker to Sylvain’s momentarily before they bury themselves into the scrunched bedding again. He mumbles something too low for Sylvain to hear, his ears tinged red.

Sylvain pulls back, concerned about his behavior. Felix wasn’t very talkative during sex, something that he was admittedly a little sad about, though he certainly was capable of being loud when the job was done right. Right now though, there was something important enough to interrupt them, and Sylvain needs to know what that is.

“What is it, darling?” He croons. “Do we need to stop?” 

“S..shut up with the pet names. I told you not to call me that.”

Felix’s tone is shaky, though Sylvain has been with him long enough to know that it’s from equal amounts of embarrassment and pleasure, not anger.

Sylvain’s laugh is honeyed and heavy with adoration. A squirming flustered Felix is certainly his favorite weakness..especially when said man is currently naked underneath him. He nudges his nose against Felix’s cheek, earning himself a huff from the younger man who turns his chin up defiantly. Sylvain catches Felix’s lips in a soft kiss as he does, his height giving him a lucky advantage in the situation. 

“Listen..” Felix breathes when they part, “I..want to try..” Sylvain waits for him to elaborate, doing his best to keep an impassive face while Felix settles his nerves— looking to Felix’s lips so that he doesn’t have any additional stress from the eye contact.

“..to have a..a child..with you.” 

Sylvain sits back fully now, eyes on the crown of Felix’s head that’s burning with a blush he swears wasn’t there a moment ago. It isn’t like they haven’t talked about it before. After 10 years of dating, 7 years of marriage, and, most recently, actually becoming homeowners in the city of their dreams, the prospect of children had been thrown around a few times. Still, it was strange that Felix wanted to talk about adoption now that he’d almost had his dick..wait.

“Oh. You mean..” 

Felix finally fixes his eyes on him, watery yet resolute. “Yeah.” 

“Felix..” Sylvain had genuinely not foreseen having such a conversation, especially not here and now. “Is that..something you really want to do?” 

Felix nods slowly and starts fiddling with his wrists, a habitual stimming that focuses his nerves, until he finds the courage to continue. “I’ve thought about it. For a long time now.” He stares at the ugly popcorn texture of the ceiling. _Disgusting_. He’d have to change that when he finally got around to painting the bedroom. It’s been seven months since they bought the place and they were still too damn busy settling into their new jobs in Portland to decorate exactly the way they wanted.

“You’d have to, uh, go off T, right?” Sylvain asks, a little hesitant. Felix rolls his eyes. How many times had he told Sylvain to stop treating him like he was so fucking fragile when it came to his transition? He’d let it slide this time though, because it _was_ a big decision. Two big decisions technically.

“Yeah. But it’s only temporary. I can start it again later.” 

“Wow..okay. Wow. I’m..kind of blown away. I don’t know what to say.”

Sylvain did know what he wanted to say, he was just a little timid in the surprise. A child with Felix.. Felix carrying his child, raising them together, loving the little person that was created from their bond with one another.. The thought was like a dream come true to him. 

“If you don’t want to..” Felix looks a little downcast. The fiddling increases.

“God, yes! Felix, of course! I.. I didn’t mean for it to come off that way. I just wanted to make sure you were really okay with it! Fuck.. I’d.. I’d love to.”

Sylvain is blabbering unnecessarily, as he usually does when he knows he’s made a mistake, a quirk that has honestly become a tad entertaining to Felix. He still won’t let him know that though, and Sylvain owes him for his moment of apprehension.

“Good. Let’s start now.” He locks his legs around Sylvain’s lower back, arching up into him.

Sylvain’s eyes widen. “Now? Are you sure?” 

“I was sure before I even talked to you, Gautier. You better not disappoint me.”

Sylvain huffs in amusement, running his hands up and down Felix’s abdomen. “You know that taunt doesn’t work anymore, Felix. It’s your last name too.” He smiles and grabs one of Felix’s hands, which have since stilled. “Just tell me one thing. I’m curious, why did you decide against adoption? We’ve agreed it was a good idea to look into before.”

Felix’s lips barely move as he mumbles again, the breath of his voice not carrying to the outside world.

“Uh..one more time, Fe? C’mon, you’ve got to give me more than that.” 

Felix’s entire face is red now, despite the fact that both men have had the time to cool down while they’ve been talking. “I said…I want them to have your hair.”

Sylvain blinks as he takes a moment to process this, then nearly falls over in a mirthful belly laugh, full of affection for the frowning, guileless, _precious_ man that by some miraculous stroke of luck loved him back.

“You know, we can find a kid with red hair. There’s enough of them out there.” 

A few flicks of the wrist come before the confession. “I know. But they don’t have _your_ hair.” 

Sylvain’s grin is Cheshire as he settles his fingers into the divots of Felix’s hips. “I can’t believe I married such a sap. I can’t wait to tell Ingrid about this.” 

Felix’s eyes flash with an actual twinge of anger. “You’d better not.” He swallows and the irritation is replaced by an expression that is a little forlorn. “Don’t tell anyone. About any of this. Not until we know for sure it’s going to happen.” 

Sylvain regards him seriously. “I won’t Fe. Don’t worry.” He drags a hand down the side of Felix’s face, cradling his favorite spot on his jaw, beaming with pride. “Have I told you lately how utterly amazing you are?”

“Shut up and fuck me already. I’m going to make you scrape all of that disaster of a design off the ceiling later if you keep looking at me like that.” 

Sylvain is quick to kiss him, squeezing at the inside of Felix’s thighs, his dick already beginning to harden to it’s previous state at his husband’s request. There’s a silver lining to the gold: they get to have sex. A lot of it. And Sylvain is definitely okay with that. 

“Come inside.” Felix reminds him with a groan as he maneuvers himself to easily slide in. Oh yeah. He’s already a fan of this idea.

* * *

It’s winter now- five months since Felix and Sylvain started trying to conceive. The redhead had truly become insatiable, wanting to fuck any chance they got even as they were still busy putting their life together. Felix had, as a matter of fact, demolished the ceiling and repainted it the very day after their first predetermined tryst. He couldn’t stop thinking about how uncomfortable it was to look at as he attempted to sleep later on that night, even though there was no way to actually see it in the darkness. 

Things were settling, slowing, as Felix liked them to around this time of the year. The house finally felt like it was lived in, just as it reached the first anniversary of their purchase. It was simple, two rooms and a small den, a modest garden in the backyard where Felix liked to work his hands when they tired of their usual activities and he had the time to. Their art was everywhere, on nightstands and benches and tables, both hanging from and leaning up against the walls. Felix’s art dwarfed Sylvain’s, as he oftentimes needed to bring his work home with him, but Sylvain’s sculptures still managed to take his breath away like nothing else in the world did. 

Felix spent the majority of his time in the past decade in college and developing his artistic reputation. He and Sylvain had moved around from city to city, sometimes for temporary work, sometimes staying quite a bit longer to finish their degrees. After he received his BA in Art, Felix convinced Sylvain that his hands were too talented to let it all go to waste and signed him up for welding classes. He was hesitant at first, but soon fell in love with it as Felix knew he would. Five years later and here he was, a welding technician and an instructor.

Felix, in a stroke of courage, decided to open an art gallery. His commissions had long since been flooded, and there was no end to them now that they actually lived in Portland. He needed a little break in that career path. A social butterfly he was not, so who else could he count on but some of his oldest friends: Hilda and Ingrid. 

Hilda is the face of his success, her looks and personality are a perfect attraction. She’s matured since he last saw her, soft long pink hair flowing freely with elegant bejeweled clips pinning the loose strands back from her forehead.

“I suppose I’ll have to do all the work again.” She teases him with a soft sigh, “Greeting people and making sure everything’s in it’s proper place sounds pretty boring..”

She accepts the position of Art Archivist anyway. Felix remembers the kindness she showed him when they first met, how carefully she arranged those tiny flower crowns with her perfect, practiced, hands, and how she so easily bowed to Sylvain and spoke to him like he was already a part of her life. He couldn’t fail with someone like her on his team.

Ingrid is...as Ingrid as ever. Her persnickety personality has sharpened into something that’s allowed her to become extremely effective in the corporate world. She’s successful, unmarried, and unbothered. It’s unsurprising, with how Felix knew she felt about Glenn. The scar in his heart still throbs over his loss, all these years later, but he didn’t love Glenn like that and he tries not to think what it would have been like if it had been Sylvain who had died instead that day. When she agrees to handle the management side of the gallery, he sighs in relief in more ways than one. Ingrid is his oldest friend, and she knows ways to reach him that the others don’t, ways that he admittedly needs sometimes and can’t always expect from Sylvain. 

To make her transition to Portland easier, he offers her the second room of their house temporarily. She holds his hands in hers, saying nothing but a small thank you, rolling her eyes alongside Felix as Sylvain bothers them all during their first dinner together as roommates with some uninteresting story about his coworker with three toes.

The frost of February is slighter here than it is in the town he grew up in. It rains more, however, something Felix doesn’t mind but hasn’t quite gotten completely used to yet. He’s happy to stay inside and watch the glossy drops slide from the window. The distant sound of them hitting the pavement makes the silence in his studio above the gallery even more soothing. He isn’t able to appreciate it today though, because the splitting headache he’s had since he’s woken up isn’t receding even with medicine and it’s bringing toxic thoughts to the forefront of his mind.

It’s been six months now. Six, and none of the changes he’s underwent are the ones he’d hoped for. Dysphoria is there in waves that he hadn’t foreseen, still not as gruesome as it seemed when he was going through his first puberty, and now that he actually has a reason it’s..bearable. The return of his period was a bittersweet event— a sign that he was capable of undertaking the task he’s set out to do and a reminder of that reaper who haunted him in his teenage years— the coals of his eyes sparking a death which follows him no matter what world he slips away to.

He knew it wouldn’t be easy. It would take patience, and time- two things that he only seemed to be able to apply when it came to his art. Life is an art unlike his own profession, and creating human life is a messy business that the devils in his head tell him he doesn’t deserve to take part in. 

_Fuck_. His head is killing him. He looks down at the canvas he was sketching on, lines barely connected and the shape ambiguous. He knows what it is, but can’t bring himself to draw it. He sighs. Sylvain has the day off work today and he could have as well, but he came in anyway to try and get his mind off everything. He doesn’t want to share the extent of the doubt and depression that he’s experiencing, but just being around Sylvain sounds a hundred times better than sitting here moping about the things he can’t change. 

“I’m going home.” He tells Hilda as he grabs his coat and umbrella. “You don’t need to stay here either, no one’s going to come with it raining outside like this.” Felix scowls at the sky, pretending that it’s the real source of his displeasure. 

Hilda knows him too well, however, and even though he’s held onto their promise not to tell anyone about trying for a family, she can tell there’s an issue that’s been continually upsetting him. He’s lucky that Ingrid hasn’t nagged much at him. He made it abundantly clear that it wasn’t something they were going to talk about any time soon when she cornered him with her eyebrows crinkled in concern. She seems to have matured enough to accept that the terms of living in peace come with less interference in his personal life.

“Okay, thanks! Marianne will be happy to see me. She had to stay late last night helping with an emergency at the Vet Hospital; they found some kittens half frozen in a box only just down the street! I can’t believe someone would do something that horrible when they could have just dropped them off there in the first place!” 

The corners of Felix’s mouth turn up slightly in amusement. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Marianne with a look of happiness on her face. The closest she gets is a serene comfort when she is by her wife’s side. Hilda always did have a soft spot for those shy outcasts. He supposes that is Hilda’s greatest craft, drawing out the inner beauty in others. 

“That is horrible.” He agrees, his mind still elsewhere. “I hope you can still enjoy today together.” 

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll figure something out.” She waves her hand in an exuberant dismissal. Her eyes are focused on him and the way that his hands hang as he twitches his wrist uncomfortably, somehow unable to storm out of the door like he originally intended to. 

“I know you don’t want to talk about it, Felix, but you don’t look so well.” He tenses slightly, but waits for her to finish because he knows that she isn’t actually going to drag him into a conversation where he’s expected to barf all of his feelings out— not now. 

She places a small, warm, hand on his shoulder instead. The touch is feather light, yet the intimacy of it tethers him to her compassion like an air balloon weighted on the ground.

“You could use some rest. Ingrid and I will take over for a few days. If you need something, Marianne and I will be happy to help.” 

Felix nods. His small expression of gratitude is weak and fractured in his throat, but she smiles all the same as he finally opens his umbrella and turns to go. 

His car is in a lot a few blocks down. There’s never any damn parking on the street, no matter how early he comes. He does stop once, to barf his breakfast, not his feelings, into the slot of the sewer on the way there. He doesn’t stop to watch the rain wash the remnants away. 

* * *

Felix’s thirtieth birthday is tomorrow and he’s sitting in the bathroom, arms wrapped around the toilet bowl, shaking with a sickness so terrible he’s considering taking more than the few days off Hilda suggested to him. Sylvain’s hands are running up and down his back, gently holding his hair away from his sweat slicked face.

“Knew I shouldn’t have walked in the rain yesterday.” He moans. “Shouldn’t have gone in the first place.” 

Sylvain kisses the top of his head. “I can stay home if you want.” His voice is almost hopeful, even through his concern. The fool really likes taking care of him that much.

Felix shakes his head, then regrets the action, a painful flare of his headache temporarily overtaking his nausea. “No. It’s fine. Ingrid will be back soon to check on me, and Hilda said she’d come by too if I called.” 

Sylvain regards him a little sadly. “Okay. But you can call me back at any time if you change you mind, alright?” 

Felix hums his agreement, too tired to continue talking about it. Sylvain helps him clean up and he returns to bed, the thought of blissful unconsciousness the only motivating factor that can make his aching body move. 

When he awakens, he feels miraculously improved. And hungry. _God, yes._ Ingrid’s returned for lunch and whatever’s she’s cooking smells heavenly. He rolls from their bed and heads downstairs, not even stopping to check his appearance in the mirror.

He must look a sight, because Ingrid raises her eyebrow at him. He sits at the counter peering around her to see what she’s making. His stomach growls, but he doesn’t want to seem desperate so he coughs, pretending that it’s a side effect of his illness and she takes the bait.

“How are you feeling, Felix? Were you able to eat anything today?” 

_No. I want whatever it is you’re having._ “M’alright.” He says instead. “Haven’t had anything to eat in a while.” Now that he thinks about it, his appetite hadn’t been normal for over a week now.

“Oh? Would you like to try some of what I’m having?” She steps aside to reveal a huge omelet, packed with vegetables and cheese. He swallows the saliva that’s started to pool under his tongue.

He won’t give in just yet though. “It’s not like you to share food.” 

“It’s not like you to show interest in my cooking.” Ingrid counters with a knowing smirk on her face. _Damn it._ Was he really that easy to read right now?

The insatiable, gnawing, hunger wins out for once. “Fine. I want to try some.” He says as he crosses his arms and rolls his eyes. She laughs as he grumbles curses under his breath and cuts him a decent portion.

It’s so good. God, it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted and he doesn’t know why. Ingrid’s not a bad cook, but he’s never really cared for breakfast food and she hasn’t even added any of his favorite spices. Ingrid watches him pretend not to enjoy it as immensely as he does with amusement. He hates her in this moment, that she can read him as well as she does after twenty five years of matronly hovering that he never asked for. Maybe he should kick her out; He’d have to mention it to Sylvain later. 

Nausea bubbles in his gut again and he forces himself to slow down. It’s a strange feeling to be so hungry and disinterested in eating at the same time. His hormones must be acting up again, they’d been so unpredictable and unsettled. He pushes the plate away suddenly and stands, drawing a look of surprise from Ingrid that he ignores.

“Thanks.” He’s able to spit out, before he heads for the bathroom again, just in case. 

He sits on the cold tiles for ten minutes before he realizes it’s not going to come. Felix sighs in the relief of being able to keep some good food down and makes to lift himself by bracing his hand against the tower they keep to the side of the toilet that holds all their medications. A bright pink box catches the corner of his eye and he halts, quick calculations darting through his mind as he closes the door in front of him instead and locks it. 

Five minutes later he is dialing the most important number in his phone, his breath so unsteady he’s unsure if proper words will form. “Sylvain, come home.” It’s all he manages to say before his trembling fingers find the end button. 

He waits for him in the kitchen, the bright open layout of the room a bit more settling than their bedroom. Ingrid has returned to the gallery and won’t be home again for hours to come, so he’s guaranteed the necessary privacy. The sound of keys jangling in the doorway jumpstarts his heart into an irregular rhythm that matches the inconstant pattern of his breathing.

“I’m in here.” He manages to call out, his voice strangled and twisted with emotion he’s unused to hearing. 

Sylvain comes to him, sweeping immediately to kiss his shiny forehead like a bird preening their lover’s feathers. Felix snorts at him, turning away, somehow unable to connect to his touch while so many different emotions are flooding him.

“What’s the matter, dearest?”

Sylvain’s eyes are large and sad— confused, and Felix isn’t helping matters by avoiding him and shaking. He feels like he is about to cry and he hates it. _People shouldn’t cry when they’re happy, so why…_ He exhales the thought and manages to look Sylvain full on for the first time this day. He can’t manage to answer the question with his words, so he just throws the small item he’s been clutching in a death grip for the half an hour he’s been sitting here waiting unceremoniously onto the table.

Sylvain jumps, his attention immediately drawn to the small hard strip sporting two distinct pink lines.

“Felix..is that?” He sucks in a breath, kneeling on the frigid floor, his hands gripping tightly at Felix’s thighs. 

“Yeah.” 

Sylvain’s face is alight with a joy unseen in their ten years together and over twenty years of close companionship. He kisses Felix’s face over and over again, laughing and sighing sweet nothings that Felix’s ears can barely follow from the pounding of blood that’s deafening him.

Felix lets him. The trembling wracking its way through his spine doesn’t stop as Sylvain lifts him bridal style into his arms and carries him into their bedroom, wet lips leaving tender kisses on every inch of skin he can reach. 

* * *

“I’m sorry to have to share this kind of news with you today.”

His Doctor doesn’t seem sorry. The sympathy on his face is practiced— wooden. Felix should know, it’s his speciality, a talent he’s cultivated since the age of three. 

Felix doesn’t look at him. Neither of them do. Their gaze is drawn to the black and white image on the screen, an impossibly small, somewhat indistinct, utterly _beautiful_ coil. There’s no sound. It isn’t moving. But it’s there. It’s real. _He said it had no heartbeat..how could it....how?_

Felix doesn’t shake, doesn’t speak, doesn’t feel. He merely continues to stare at the screen, willing to commit to memory every little curve and line. His arms itch to reach out, to cradle the life that he sees but can not feel, that he knows has ceased to exist within him. Sylvain knows, and he brushes his hands, strong and sure and created just to support Felix in this moment, up and down and around Felix’s wrists. It’s an act that seems like an innocent gesture of comfort from his lover on the outside, yet the depth of Sylvain’s intimacy is lost on all but the few who know Felix well enough to realize he is unable to release any of the pain that is building inside him by their usual flicking and twisting. 

“We will have to make preparations for a D&C, I’m afraid. The gestation has progressed too far for other procedures and I’d be concerned to let your body attempt to process the miscarriage naturally due to your.. _condition_.”

Neither of the men acknowledge his words. This isn’t his business, he won’t be involved in the _**procedure**_. Why is he still here?

“Unfortunately, this is one of the many issues that affects people of uh, your status.” He continues. Felix feels Sylvain tense beside him, but he is beyond caring what the shitty old man thinks about him. Not now. Not today. 

“If you had prepared for the possibility of this before you began pumping testosterone into your body at such a young age, you would have a much brighter outcome. You should have consulted with me before you began attempting to conceive. It’s dangerous, and irresponsible to the fetus.” 

Felix’s face still doesn’t move from the screen but he feels Sylvain’s snap away in the direction of the Doctor’s voice.

“Shut up now.” He growls. “If you know what’s good for you.” 

“I am a medical practitioner simply offering professional advice.” The Doctor’s voice grows more defensive and venomous with every word. “You can’t be selfish and think only of your own body when you’re pregnant. If _she_ had really wanted this, then..”

“ **He**!” Sylvain explodes at him, stepping forward so that he’s out of Felix’s immediate range when his fury ripples throughout his body. “..and I will be leaving now.”

He turns to Felix, head bowed toward his peripheral vision, the red halo of his hair swimming in and out as the tears finally fall freely from Felix’s face, eyes still transfixed on what has become the still life image that will haunt him for the years to come. 

“I still need to examine… _him_..” The doctor protests, and there is the sound of a slight scuffle as Sylvain places himself directly in front of Felix, cutting off the image he’s unable to look away from but has by now no longer truly been seeing. 

“Don’t you dare touch him. You never will. Never again.” 

The atmosphere darkens, and the weight of it along with the relief of no longer being drawn to the proof of one of his worst realized fears, is enough to make Felix blink away his tears and return to a state of semi-awareness. He reaches out to grab one of Sylvain’s hands. He still can’t feel them, but he knows he needs to do something. Sylvain’s grasp is gentle, large palms roughened by years of craftsmanship. They are always his anchor in whatever sea of troubles life throws them. 

His voice is soft, brown eyes kind when he lowers them to Felix’s own, even laced heavily with pain. 

“C’mon ‘Lix. We can leave now.”

Felix shuffles automatically by Sylvain’s side, the anger the taller man is emanating is more than enough to clear a path back to the front side of the office. He slams his fists down on the counter, making the receptionist jump and shriek like a cornered animal. 

“Take us off his case!” Sylvain snarls. “I know we have to come back here for a..follow up appointment, but I’m demanding another doctor for that and I don’t want that asshole anywhere around, you hear me?!” 

“Y..yes sir! Right away sir! Auuuugh! I’m so sorry!”

She immediately sets to the task. The sides of her face twitching in fear are almost comically pronounced in the light of the oversized computer screen.

Sylvain instantly feels bad about his outburst. She’s a tiny thing, shy and trembling, with thin purple hair and bangs that looked like she still cut them herself. He didn’t know what someone like her was doing in a job like this, but it wasn’t okay of him to unload his horror and hostility like that. 

He sucks in a breath, one eye still trained on Felix’s body language at his side. “I’m sorry..it’s not your fault at all. I really need his privacy respected, okay..? It’s..I can’t..”

“It’s okay.” She interrupts him unexpectedly. “I’ve..I understand more than you think.”

She blushes a little as her eyes scan Felix with a recognition, like they’ve met before. He doesn’t get it at all, but Felix is in a non responsive state as it is, so there won’t be any answers today. He’s paling and the tremors are picking up in intensity. Small distressed noises are starting to leak from the corners of his mouth. Sylvain has to get him out of here before he has a complete meltdown. 

He hastily scribbles his personal phone number on a piece of paper and thrusts it over the counter.

“Call me with any new information later.” 

They manage to make it back to their car before Felix breaks. 

Sylvain reclines the seat all the way back and lies Felix down, wiping at the tears that continue to ooze from his eyes. He shakes and rocks on his side— the twisting of his wrists are so rapid it borders on punishing. The whines he emits are still not fully formed and Sylvain knows it is only a matter of making it back to their house before the storm actually hits. He shoots a text to Ingrid. _Coming back with Felix soon, can you pick us all up some dinner?_ Hopefully that will get her out of the way long enough for them to get to their room without any questioning. 

“Felix..” He tucks a loose strand of hair behind his husband’s ear. “I’m going to drive us back home soon. Let me know with a nod when you’re ready.” Felix lets out a particularly loud whine at that, acknowledging Sylvain’s request even though he’s currently nonverbal. 

After a few texts to Ingrid confirming the food they’ve decided on, he feels a nudge at his shoulder. Felix’s forehead continues to bump against him, snot and tears catching on his jacket as Sylvain slowly pulls him into an embrace. Felix coughs and sniffs at the presence of soft kisses being pressed to his temple, the low rumbling of reassurance that Sylvain is there with him in the firm pressing of their chests. 

“S..ylvain..” He croaks. It’s like his throat has forgotten how to form words in the short time he’s disassociated. 

“Yeah baby, I’m here. I’m here..” 

He can’t stand it, being in this car where he can’t properly process what’s happening. “Home..” He manages to whisper, before everything fades into the blurred background again. 

* * *

Sylvain has held him this way before— Felix’s face buried deep into his neck, the salt of his tears drying on his skin. He’d hold him this way forever if that’s what Felix needed, but god, if there’s anything out there he can still pray to, he hopes he’ll never need to hold him this way again.

This is the way that he holds Felix when he’s faced with the reality of death: Warm hands comb through midnight tresses, massaging the scalp underneath, Felix’s fingernails pressing hard against his shoulders, ignoring the ache, his legs locked tightly around Sylvain’s spine while he shakes and shakes and shakes until the earth itself seems to stand still as their bodies become one quivering quake. 

They’d made it seventeen years without having to repeat this. Seventeen years. It seems like a lifetime. They were so young then, death demolished them. The situation dwarfed everything, your first time, it always does. 

It made things easier then, for Sylvain at least. He’d held him this way when Glenn died, able to bypass his own shock and sadness. Glenn was his friend, just as far away from his age in years as Felix was, on the other side of the bridge. He was Ingrid’s first love, his best friend’s brother, and compared to that Glenn wasn’t Sylvain’s anything. His grief was shadowed by theirs and he knew it. Sylvain was able to play his role to perfection, and live to process the damage later.

This time it was different. The baby( because Sylvain refuses to think of it in any of those cold, clinical, terms) was theirs. Felix had carried it in his body, felt the physical loss, gotten the shit end of the stick just as he’s always had the unfair misfortune of. Yet, Sylvain had swept his fingers over the slight swell of Felix’s stomach every night before Felix would swat it away and complain that it was hard enough for him to sleep without his hovering. He would catch himself smiling at the families he came across when he went out in public, dreaming of a blurry faced infant with topaz jewels for eyes. It was still a part of him that had lived and died and stolen his heart in the short time that he’d had the exhilaration to know them.

The grief was personal now, and he allowed himself to feel it, to lay there and shake and cry and fist his hands into Felix’s shirt just as Felix was doing to him. They weren’t children anymore, and even if it still was just a cruel, tragic, accident so out of their control, Sylvain couldn’t simply bury his grief- couldn’t swallow it inside of him to sort out at a more convenient time like he used to before. His shield was down, joining Felix in mourning, accepting the pain as the proof of their love instead of lawlessness. Grief back then was caustic, immediate, no timeline, wondering what to expect. 

Now their grief is tainted with the knowledge that they will wake to it tomorrow, the sun rising on a new day without the presence of the person they wished to share it with. And every day after that, they will feel it fading still, until it becomes another scar on a heart that still beats with the instinct and determination to live.


	2. Chapter 2

Felix doesn’t fall asleep in Sylvain’s arms like he did last time. There was no brief reprieve to be found in unconsciousness. He plays the scene of their visit over and over again in his head, the words of his Doctor cutting through him like lethal shards of glass now that the fog is lifting. 

Neither of them are trembling or sniffling anymore. Their expressions are blank as they study one another without really taking in any of the details. Despite the firm pressure of Sylvain’s body against him, his fingers are ghosts, wisping the plains of Felix’s back, his shoulders, his arms. Felix remains still, not really focusing on the feeling, but benefitting from it all the same, his body responding to the only person in the world who knows exactly how to touch him when he needs it. 

“He was right.” 

Felix hears himself say it, even as he doesn’t recognize the voice as belonging to him.

Sylvain inhales a deep, slow, breath and his body grows just a little weightier against Felix’s. “Felix..No, Babe..”

“He is.” Felix insists, a hollow stubbornness reverberating between them. “It’s my fault. My responsibility. I failed.” 

Sylvain’s heart feels like it is shattering into a thousand pieces, each one deadlier than the last, threatening to poke out of his chest and destroy everything he tries so hard to love. He knows he can’t convince Felix otherwise, not right now, not like this. He knows he’s already doing the best he can by giving him his presence and the pressure of his body, but he still searches for something to say in response, some kernel of truth that Felix can cling to instead of the evil thoughts that asshole drilled into his head.

_I love you. I love you so much. Felix. You didn’t fail, baby. It’s not your fault._

Sylvain wants to say this, because it is his truth, but he knows it’s not the truth Felix wants to hear, not the words he will believe in, not what will actually help him.

Instead he says exactly what he did before, that night seventeen years ago, because it was true then, and it’s still true now.

“I’m here for you, Felix. Whatever you need.” 

Felix has always struggled to process the connections between emotions and facts and the inherently overwhelming world of his senses. On a normal day, it will happen dozens of times, that he will find himself stuck on something that he knows shouldn’t bother him the way it does. This is something that should bother him though, something that he’s aware is normal to be devastated over, and seeing Sylvain with his guard down is a good indicator as to the validity of the realization.

He hadn’t prepared for this, obviously. No one does. But, he’d read about it- read a lot of things in the past month while he waited for his insurance to go through and all of the necessary appointments to be made. The heart is supposed to begin to beat at around five or six weeks, and they’d said he should be pushing eleven. They should have been able to hear it by now, see the little fingers and toes of the strawberry sized fetus squirming. 

There was no squirming, no fingers and toes, the diminutive size of the embryo indicating that it had since stopped growing. Did its heart ever actually beat within him? For how long? Or was it a lost cause from the beginning, because this was something his body wasn’t capable of handling correctly? 

Felix pulls himself impossibly tight around Sylvain’s broad iron chest at the thought. A small whimper through slightly parted lips allows him to taste the mark of his sorrow on the starchy skin of Sylvain’s neck. He’s close enough to process the words Sylvain says in response, even with his ears as tuned out as they are. 

_“I’m here for you, Felix. Whatever you need.”_

Whatever he needs. What he truly needs now is impossible. The tiny swell of his stomach is currently trapped between their bodies, something that he wishes would grow so suddenly even if it would pry them apart. His fingernails dig deeper, but Sylvain does not wince, and Felix looks at him now- his eyes a rapid, repetitive process of lowering and raising, working his way up to the point where he is able to sustain contact. 

Felix has never seen Sylvain look so exhausted, and so broken. His eyes have the kind of gaze he’d expect to see from a dog who sits at his owner’s grave: deep, melancholic, and pensive. It’s all wrong, those are the eyes in the mirror he remembers from the months following Glenn’s death. They’re eyes that shouldn’t belong to Sylvain, not to his sun. 

What he needs is Sylvain, his Sylvain, and he’s already here, pressed up against him, but he needs more.

“I need you.” He vocalizes, emotion cracking his voice, sounding all the more desperate in the hoarse aftermath of his meltdown.

Sylvain doesn’t get the full meaning of it at first.

“You have me, sweet. Forever, and as long as you’ll keep me.”

He lowers his forehead to touch Felix’s, eyes closing to focus on the additional intimacy.

It’s not good enough, still not what he needs. Felix tips his chin upward to kiss him, rolling his hips firmly against Sylvain’s. “I need you.” He says again, this time against the corner of his mouth as their lips part. 

Sylvain’s sharp intake of breath is through the nose and exits by the same route. _Oh_. He’s no stranger to this, finding catharsis through sex. 

It’s not a permanent way to deal with the pain. Often it adds to it, creates more problems to tackle later. He knows this, yet, there is a difference between the selfish, reckless, destructive encounters of his past and the present. He loves Felix, unlike any of the people he’s done this with before, and he’s ready and willing to be there for him in a hundred different ways when morning comes. 

He kisses Felix again, soft and sensual, giving him time to adjust to the change in sensations building within their bodies. The stable pressure of his body against Felix slowly shifts, as he grinds against him and the hint of a moan tickles at the base of his throat.

It doesn’t progress much further than their shirts removed, feverish stroking, and deep, tender, kisses before Felix is tensing around him, his panting elevated. Sylvain grabs his hips and holds him steady and firm, pressing even harder against him as Felix rides out his orgasm with garbled cries. A continuous stream of _I love you darling, there you go, it’s okay, I’ve got you,_ softly sighing into his ear greets Felix as he comes down from his peak, and he’s finally able to surrender to sleep like he did all those years ago, nestled into the crook carved entirely to meld his face within the security of Sylvain’s neck.

* * *

  
Sylvain receives the call early next morning.

“Ummm, hi. I’m the receptionist from yesterday..Bernadetta. I’m calling to help you schedule Felix’s appointment, is that okay? Is now not a good time?? I’m sorry!”

He sighs. A touch of frustration settles over layers of bereavement.

“It’s fine.” _It’s not._ “Just give me a moment.”

He glances over at Felix, who is still sleeping, hesitant to leave him alone. He’d been up every hour with a reoccurring nightmare, but this would take only minutes, and it was one of the few things that he could do in this situation so Felix wouldn’t have to. 

“Alright, go ahead.”

The rest of that month was a blur, something neither of them would ever be able to completely recall. Felix decided to tell Ingrid and Hilda the truth, at least, some of it. The physical recovery took too much time to hide, especially with Ingrid in the house with them. The emotional recovery was something else entirely, the peak of a mountain he couldn’t envision himself ever reaching in his lifetime.

He keeps it simple, forthright, and efficient, just as they’ve come to expect from him. He couldn’t bear for them to know that he had tried and he had _failed_ , how he had wanted it so badly- they both did. He doesn’t tell them about Sylvain’s smile that day in the kitchen, a smile that Felix had never seen before, a smile he so desperately wants to see again. 

He doesn’t resume testosterone, despite Sylvain’s encouragement. The dysphoria’s still there, it hurts, it’s an extra wound that he notices yet doesn’t want to do anything about while his heart’s still rapidly bleeding out. He doesn’t know what exactly it is that he’s waiting for, just that he’s frozen, here, and no matter how he tried to step forward again nothing seemed to work. 

Nothing seemed to work, because he himself was broken.

Going out in public was something he avoided until he couldn’t anymore. Thankfully, Hilda and Ingrid were able to keep things running smoothly at the gallery without him. During that time, he reopened his commissions and focused on nothing else. He didn’t do it to feel alive, he didn’t do it to heal, he did it because it was something he could do without thinking— without being. He wasn’t ready to be a person yet, just a machine that created piece after piece without any true meaning. 

The only time he came down and away from his emotional disassociation were those few hours at night when he would lay in Sylvain’s arms. Here was the only place that he could be himself, remember that he was Felix, that he was human, because he recognized Sylvain as the person he loved, and if Sylvain was a person he loved then he must have a heart. Sylvain loved him back, this person named Felix, so Felix must be a person that did something to deserve that love. 

These were logical thoughts, Felix’s favorite kind, and yet, they did not connect him to this world like they usually did, like they should. It was just enough, enough that he would not completely lose his mind, that he would wake unto each day with a small braided cord at the base of his brain, tying him to the knowledge that when night came he had someone waiting for him, so he couldn’t leave. 

Sylvain tried to pull him away earlier and earlier, just to lie beside him in bed. It wasn’t clockwork, every night was something different, adjusting to Felix’s needs. It always ended the same way though, his hands squeezing into the thick muscles of Sylvain’s back, the scorching oven of his bare chest on Felix’s enough for him to recognize the blood pumping through his body as a sign of something good- something alive.

* * *

  
Felix knows it’s gone on long enough, too long, when summer arrives. The sun is setting later now, and there is an edge to their nightly sessions, something that seems undone— something he knows is unsaid. 

Tonight he’s asked Sylvain to touch him tenderly, something that he hasn’t wanted much since that fatal day. Sylvain obliges, pressing a knee between his legs, pulling Felix’s face into his chest, applying the perfect amount of pressure. They are silent for a while, the ministrations of his hands speaking volumes against the facade, until Sylvain finally breaks.

“Felix..”

“Mmm.” 

“I love you so much, it breaks my heart to see you like this.”

“Mmm.”

“Baby, why haven’t you gone back on T?”

Felix tenses a little and Sylvain stops the movements of his hands, prepared to back away if necessary. Felix definitely doesn’t want that though so he reaches to lift one of them and brings it forward until it’s resting, heavy, on the back of his neck.

He’s done enough searching by now to know exactly what he should say. He hears it in the back of his mind constantly. He could write pages of all the details and all the little ways it makes him think and feel, but he can’t tell Sylvain any of that. His voice never cooperates the way he needs it to. So, he just says one of the first things that came to his mind when he saw that second line materialize on the counter back at the beginning of the year.

“I have names.”

Sylvain’s breathing falters, his grip a little tighter on Felix’s back though the hand on his neck remains the same.

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” Felix affirms, and then, because he feels a slight tremble between them, though he doesn’t know which body it originates from, he continues.

“Vivian, for a girl. Or Levi, if it’s a boy.

Felix is certain that it is Sylvain who is shaking now. He can hear the pulsing of his heart pick up and his voice breaks when he dips his face lower to kiss at the edge of Felix’s cheek and whisper in his ear.

“They’re beautiful names, love.” He pauses, steadies his breathing, and seems to hesitate before asking. “How long have you had them?”

It takes Felix a few moments to remember how to search his memories. It feels like digging his hands through a huge bowl of crushed ice until they are red and raw, but he finally grasps at something. 

“I was four, I think. Maybe five. Before I knew..this.” He gestures to his body, unable to finish the sentence properly. Sylvain buries his face into Felix’s hair, inhaling him, not speaking and ruining the precious moment that has been building up between them for the past few weeks. “It was stupid.” Felix adds. “I only did it because everyone else was.”

It was not stupid and they both knew it. Felix didn’t do things solely because they were expected. Even as a child, he disliked trends, wouldn’t waste energy trying to fit in, and didn’t worry about offending others with his personal choices. Sylvain clearly remembers what Felix said to him when he first brought up the desire to carry his child— by now it must be close to a year..

_I’ve thought about it. For a long time now._

Five years old. He’s thought about since he was five. All this time, through everything that had happened, all they had done, the life they had created together. He waited so long to tell him, waited so long to even try. Sylvain holds back the tears threatening to leak from the corners of his eyes.

“Nothing you’ve ever done is stupid, Felix..”

 _I don’t deserve you_.

“..They’re perfect. You’re perfect.”

_I wish I could give you the world._

“Shut up, Sylvain.”

It’s tiny, and it’s tired, but there is a touch of familiar characterization in those three words. It’s his own particular form of endearment. _Stop talking, you’re making me feel things, so many things for you._ If they were to tally the two lover’s most frequent phrases, it would be right there at the top. For Sylvain, it’s _I love you_ , for Felix it’s _Shut up, Sylvain._

Felix sighs. For the first time in months, they are allowing one another to breach the barrier between them, and he doesn’t know if it will be like this the next night or the night after that, so he pushes himself a bit further, and finds himself able to answer Sylvain’s first question now. 

“That’s why I can’t. I’m not ready.. I won’t be able to try..not now, but soon. I don’t want to stop and start over and over again.”

The tears come, from one eye at first, then the other, thick and quick to be felt as they fall on the crown of Felix’ head. Sylvain didn’t think it was possible to love his husband any more than he did in this moment, and he gently rocks them as they process the emotion revealed to one another in their conversation. 

“Okay.” Sylvain finally says, not because Felix needs to hear it but because somehow his throat needs to work the response up to his brain. “I love you with all my heart.” He can’t help but to tack it on whenever he can.

“I know.” Felix responds by turning around and adjusting himself in Sylvain’s arms exactly the way he wants it. He sighs in relief when he feels Sylvain’s heartbeat settle against his back. “Let’s go to sleep.” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise the next chapter will be smutty and sweet instead of so heavy like the first three. I’m already done with it, but juggling three different stories at the same time can be a tricky, albeit entertaining science.

He knew he shouldn’t have left the house today. He knew it when he woke up to an empty bed because he’d overslept, the tightening of his chest only halfway sated by the note Sylvain left on the nightstand and the “ _Good morning. I love you, my heart._ ❤️“ text sent at 9:03 AM. He had promised to mail a small commission though, and he didn’t want to ask Ingrid to drop it off at the post office if she came home for lunch, nor could he wait until Sylvain was off work, because by then it would be closed. 

At least he’s able to shower daily and feed himself on his own by now. His emotional state has slowly been getting better since he confided in Sylvain a few days ago. He’s able to return to his studio for short bursts, although he still has very little to do with the gallery. He’s grateful to his friends for being so accommodating; They’re doing so much more than he could have ever asked them for, even assuaging his guilt when he vocalized it. 

Public settings are completely different, however, especially when he’s by himself. It was something he didn’t like doing even before the trauma. It’s something that absolutely terrifies him now.

Even as he feels that familiar blurring of the senses, he forces himself to pull over a hoodie, lace up his shoes, and leave. It’s clear outside today and he takes that as a good sign— even though it’s not and he doesn’t believe in things like luck and fate anyway. He loses himself in the mechanical feeling of driving and sits parked by the building for twenty minutes until he feels adjusted enough to bring the package inside.

It’s busy. Of course it is. It’s so loud, and he hadn’t wanted to bring his headphones or even earplugs because it was more important to him to remain invisible right now. People are yelling and scraping their feet across the floor, shuffling and slamming boxes and envelopes and papers alike. It all feels like it is happening directly to him and through him at the same time. The line is long and he doesn’t want to wait in it, but he has to. He can do it; He’s built himself up enough to handle just this one thing today. Just this one thing and then he can go home and Sylvain will return soon after that so he can bury himself in his arms again. 

Mercifully, it moves quicker than he’d expected it to. He doesn’t say a thing as he receives the correct packaging and shoves the commission into the box, walking as fast as he dares back outside again. He’s almost to the curb of the lot where he parked when he hears a noise that makes him freeze.

Crying. It’s loud and shrill- and it’s young. It’s a baby, he knows it, and despite everything in his mind telling him to ignore it and keep going because he’s _almost there,_ his body betrays him. He finds himself stepping to the side and turning around to find where it’s coming from.

He doesn’t have to look far or long. There’s a bench next to the water fountain not more than 10 feet away where a woman is sitting, rocking an infant in her arms. He was right, it’s young. It’s so young, it probably shouldn’t even be outside, but it is. 

He’s transfixed as he stares, taking in all of the little details that are exposed. He knows it’s rude, knows it’s not socially acceptable, that the lady will probably think he’s creepy or even dangerous, but he can’t help it- his large amber eyes watching with a woeful yearning as the shrieks intensify. He doesn’t know how long he stands there, but eventually the woman notices him, and she smiles apologetically. She looks exhausted, with her disheveled hair in a low ponytail swung to the side and dark circles under her eyes.

“I’m sorry he’s so loud. I’ve been trying to get him to sleep, but it’s taking me longer than I thought to finish my errands today and he missed nap time.” 

That’s his cue to respond- to say something back to her or to walk over or to leave. Felix continues to stare instead, his eyes beginning to water as the baby squirms and flails his fists in the air. The woman notices something is wrong with him, but she doesn’t react the way he thought she would. Instead, her smile changes into something soft and sympathetic. 

“If the noise doesn’t bother you, would you like to come over and see him? I’m told he’s quite cute, you know.” There is a hint of pride in her voice. 

Felix is startled out of the depths of his pining at the proposition. He’s able to tear his eyes away from the bundle and study the woman again. Her hair is highlighter orange, slightly unnatural in appearance, like Sylvain’s red. She must dye it, there’s no way it came out like that, but it’s comforting in it’s oddity, making him feel like he’s not so out of place.

“Okay.” 

He focuses on trying to relax as he approaches them, his heart beating upwards into the crux of his throat. Felix stands awkwardly, half to the front and half to the side of them. The woman laughs and pats the space beside her. 

“You can sit down, you know. He might bite, but I won’t.” 

He does sit down. He doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know her. Yet, the crying from the bundle in her arms is calling to him, and he settles for sitting as far away from them as possible, letting her tilt the the swaddled babe so that he can see him.

His breath catches in his throat. Incredibly, the baby does have the same tuft of orange hair as his mother.

 _“Genetics are a peculiar science...”_ He thinks to himself, which in itself is a peculiar thing to think of at the moment because the child is so beautiful, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen something that can rival it— except maybe his fingers combing through the sunset of Sylvain’s hair.

The infant looks back at him, eyes still unfocused due to his age. The eyes are dark orbs that consume him willingly, and his crying softens as he once again raises a tiny pink-tinged fist.

“See?” The woman prompts Felix. She is seemingly unconcerned about his lack of proper conversational skills. “He’s pretty cute, isn’t he?” 

“He is.” Felix admits, finally finding his voice. It’s an understatement, but he doesn’t need to say it. “How old is he?” The question leaves his mouth before he even realizes it exists. Once again, he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t need to know.

“Just reached 5 weeks yesterday. I shouldn’t really have him outside so much so soon yet, but I didn’t have a choice.” 

Felix doesn’t ask why that is. He’s content to watch the sleepy infant’s cries turn into pitiful whines as it yawns, exposing a tiny toothless mouth. His heart continues to pound against his esophagus. 

“I’m Leonie.”

She’s friendly, perhaps a little too friendly for Felix’s tastes, but there are worse things to be.

“I’d shake your hand, but mine are kind of busy right now so..” She cuts the sentence off with another smile. 

“Felix.” Names are easy. He knows how to do this part at least. 

“Nice to meet you, Felix.” Leonie says enthusiastically, and Felix believes her. She really thinks it’s nice to meet someone as strange and fucked up as he is, sitting on a bench near a fountain in the middle of the afternoon?

“This little guy’s name is Levi. He seems to like you.”

Felix’s right hand reaches out to clench the gnarled side of the bench as everything starts spinning around him and he decides that no, he was wrong, names aren’t easy, they’re the most complicated and agonizing things in the world.

He coughs, tears stinging as they begin to roll down his face, and hurriedly stands. He doesn’t turn around to see the concern on Leonie’s face as he leaves, only muttering what he hopes is an acceptable parting response. 

“Thank you for letting me see him.” 

* * *

  
Felix’s body barely listens to him as he stumbles away, the echoing of the infant’s name seems to carry through his blood, an aching he can feel deep in his bones. _Levi, Levi.. my Levi.._ His eyes are too clouded with grief to tell him where he should be going and he barely reacts when he collides head on with something. There’s a blur of purple swimming in his vision and he hears a squeak. Did he hit some giant exotic rodent?

“O..oh! I’m sorry sir! _‘Stupid Bernie..should have paid attention to where you were going!’_ Are you mad? I bet you’re sooo mad.. wait..are you okay?”

Not a rodent then. Too self critical. He clears his eyes of the abominable liquid as discretely as he can. She looks somewhat familiar, but he can’t quite place it with his current disposition. She’s smaller than him, even without her cowering, and her wide grey eyes are trained to the ground as she fiddles with the straps of a hedgehog purse slung across her chest. 

Even within his own storm of sensory overload he recognizes what she’s going through. He’s still trying to figure out exactly what is is that he should do when she actually looks at him and her eyes light up with a faint recognition.

“Felix..? Your name is Felix, right? I’m Bernadetta, the receptionist from the— the office.” She falters when his blank expression shadows with pain at the mention of her job. 

Again with the names today. How was he supposed to keep track of all these people that act like they know him? He does vaguely recall Sylvain yelling at a distortion of purple hair before the gaps really started taking place. He doesn’t recall looking at her or saying anything though, so he’s not sure why she’d expect that now.

“Are you okay?” She asks again, this time without any of the anxious trembling. He doesn’t even consider the meaning of the question, but he does realize that he’s been standing here a while and that he doesn’t actually know where that here is. He tries to sweep the area, but everything looks indistinct. The colors of the cars are blurring together even without the presence of tears anymore.

“I need to find my car.” 

She startles, even though there isn’t a reason to. “O..oh! What color is it?”

He should know this. It’s probably the easiest question to answer. Judging by the look on her face it takes him too long before he finally remembers. “Black.” 

“Okay..I can help you look if..if it’s not too much of a bother.”

He doesn’t have the spoons* to care about her insecurities right now so no, it didn’t really matter. 

“Okay.”

It’s a decision that’s practically already been made for him- one less thing for him to do. It doesn’t seem like she’s the kind of person who wants to talk a lot, even if she knows you, and they’re practically strangers.

Bernadetta nervously shuffles forward, eyes darting to the side as if she expects someone to come from any direction to kidnap her. He would roll his eyes at such an action if it were a normal day, but today is already far from normal and he just accepts that this strange little mouse girl knows what she’s doing. He lets her lead the way because he’s admittedly lost and wouldn’t know any better. 

“Do you remember what kind of car it is?”

Felix probably would, if his brain was working properly, but not now. He shakes his head. “Okay..what about a decal or a dent or something else that would stand out?” 

His gallery is advertised on the bumper. It had pissed him off when Sylvain slapped it on and laughed at his reaction after he told him not to do something so embarrassing, but now he’s never been more grateful for it. He describes it to her and this time her eyes light up like stars.

“I know that place! I’ve been there before, the exhibits are beautiful..” She raises her head in awe. “I’ve dreamed of being featured there— I know its silly, I should just be grateful for my Etsy…”

Apparently he was wrong. She could talk, if prompted about the right subject. He somewhat contributes to her ramblings with grunts of affirmation or displeasure where it calls for it and one or two word answers to questions that affect him. 

She’s in the middle of explaining the different kinds of yarn she uses when he finds it. He stops by his car and she stands still beside him- waiting to be dismissed he supposes. 

But he can’t bring himself to do it just yet. Now that he’s here, he realizes it. He can’t drive. He still doesn’t trust himself to operate properly. 

He wants to sit down though, so he walks to the curb beside it and eases himself on. Bernadetta doesn’t follow him, but she doesn’t leave either. She seems to know that he needs his space, but is struggling to figure out how to say something.

“Felix..do you want me to stay here with you until you’re ready to go?” 

_Why does she care so much? Why do all these..?_ He sucks in a soft breath and releases it. It doesn’t ease as much of the tension as he hoped it would. If he were inside, he’d want to be alone right now, but he’s not, and the idea of someone coming across him like this, unguarded, is enough to accept her offer.

“Do what you want.” 

She doesn’t move or say anything for several minutes, and it’s enough to for him to settle his breathing. He pulls out his phone and sees 3 missed texts and a voicemail from Sylvain.

_  
How are you feeling today, love? I’ll be home a little early, there’s a meeting I can miss if I want._

_I’m gonna pick us up something to eat on the way back. I’m thinking Chinese, anything else you want?_

_Felix? Babe? Is your phone on? I’m starting to get a little worried. I’m going to leave soon and I’ll just come home first so you can tell me what you want then._   
  


The last text was sent at 2:51 and it’s.. 3:29 now. _Fuck_. How did he not notice? He needs to get going. He sends a short response: _Sorry, had to step out and do something. I’m coming back._

Bernadetta had moved a little closer to him while he was checking his phone and now she gingerly sits as far away on the edge that she can while still being in his vicinity. He considers her briefly, and she lets out another nervous squeak. Her timidity is a little more amusing to him now that he’s calming down. If she was really so terrified why did she keep approaching him?

“I..I’m glad that you’re doing a little better now, Felix.” She says to her feet. 

“I never said that.” She’d see the hint of a smirk if she looked up at him, but she doesn’t. “Why did you help me?”

She doesn’t answer him right away, and he’s almost positive that he’d spooked her too much with his sudden directness, but then, she opens her purse with trembling fingers and removes two bottles of pills. She thrusts them out in her palms while looking pointedly in the other direction, a blush staining her face.

“I..I understand what you’re going through! I mean..not everything, obviously.. but some things..I can.” 

They’re hormones, he realizes as he scans the label. Bernadetta is trans. _Huh_. 

He can’t quite manage a smile yet, but he feels himself relax an additional notch. She shoves the pills back into her little purse and twiddles her thumbs shyly, stealing a nervous glance from under her bangs.

“I see. Thank you.” 

“o..oh! Of course!”

The atmosphere is still not pleasant, but he no longer feels like everything is ripping apart at the seams. The pain is still there, but it’s muted, and that’s the best he can hope for at the moment. He makes for his car, determined to see Sylvain before he loses himself to it all again.

She waits to see him off, waving a little slowly with her hand close to her chest. A strange girl, but he’s not one to really pass judgement on that. Instead of attempting to unpack everything that happened to him this afternoon he spends the rest of his drive focusing on the one truth he can immediately determine. 

He’s not ready to try again just yet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Just in case you’ve never heard it before..a quick Wikipedia link to the Spoon Theory below, because I couldn't get the original blog link to work on my iPad for some reason.
> 
> https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spoon_theory


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *ProZD voice* Oh they FUUUUCKIN!

“Hey, Felix. Guess what?”

Felix surveys Sylvain, unamused, over the commission he’s been working on for the last three hours. He groans as he realizes just how far back he’s slumped in the plush armchair. He flicks his wrists and gives his shoulders an experimental stretch. Digital art isn’t his greatest forte and it’s particularly time consuming. Sylvain knows not to interrupt him when he’s this absorbed.

“Cancel any plans you have going on tomorrow because I’m going to take you somewhere.”

He winks at his husband when Felix scoffs and pretends to return to his work. As if he has anyone other than Sylvain to make plans with. Ingrid lives here and Hilda and Marianne are well aware they can drop by whenever they want.

“No. I’ve got work to do.”

It’s always true, but that’s just because that’s how he wants it to be. He could take a day off. He could use a day off. Sylvain knows that, but he also knows Felix won’t give in that easily to unexpected surprises. To him, convincing Felix is part of the thrill of the game.

“C’mon, you’re really going to like this, I promise!”

Sylvain turns those sad brown eyes on him like one of those abused animals in that damn ASPCA commercial. How foolish. It won’t work. He’s going to have to do better than that. 

“Don’t make promises that rely on somebody else’s cooperation to keep.”

Sylvain barks out a laugh and swoops down to grab the laptop out of Felix’s protesting hands. Felix would do a lot more than just curse and growl at him if Sylvain hadn’t proven from the too many other times he’s done this that he knows exactly how to gently close and place it down. The swift deftness of those fingers really was a strange and unfair talent of his. 

He knows how to ease Felix out of his sour moods as well. He crouches immediately beside the chair and pushes at Felix’s chest so he’s back to being trapped inside the spongy material of the despicable furniture. Sylvain had picked that one out and Felix had no doubt that the bastard was thinking about using it in this exact situation even then. 

Sylvain drops even further to the floor, his hands sliding up toward the inside of Felix’s thighs as he lays the side of his face _dangerously_ close to his crotch. 

Felix’s breathing already hitches. They haven’t..not since that day. Well, not truly. There were some minor sexual escapades, but that comes with the territory of being married and sharing a bed and, unfortunately, loving the idiot. 

Sylvain’s eyelashes flutter seductively as he slightly parts his lips and turns his darkened irises to gaze upward at him. He kneads his fingers higher up on the inside of Felix’s thighs, face flushed looking like Felix had already worked him over twice. 

He’s unable to resist a groan at the sight. How does his husband manage to be so confidently sexual at the drop of a hat( or in this case, a laptop..)? Sylvain’s grin is cocky at the sound of appreciation and he takes it as an invitation to climb right into Felix’s lap. His erection brushes against Felix and he lets out a surprised grunt. 

“How are you hard? Nothing’s even happened yet.” 

Sylvain’s eyelashes flutter rapidly again, this time against his cheek as he leans forward to whisper in his ear. “Can’t help it. Just happens whenever I’m around you, babe.” He nibbles at the lobe and rolls his hips forward suddenly, but slowly. It pulls a small gasp from Felix’s lips.

“You horndog. I was working..”

It’s a lost cause and they both know it. Felix is trying to draw out the inevitable, but the slow furnace of real desire is simmering below his belt and Sylvain will be sure to actually feel it soon. 

“Mmmmm so am I..” He purrs and continues the lazy grinding, hands crawling up to tease Felix’s chest until they settle at the sides of his jaw, holding his face there so he can tongue the shell of his ear firmly. 

_Fucking damnit_. He knows how much that drives him crazy. The simmering heat is enough to cook him inside of his pants now. Sylvain grinds down directly on it, because of course he knows exactly when the timing is perfect to push Felix off that hesitant edge.

“Haaah.. Sylvain..” Felix hips rise to move back against him and Sylvain makes his first vocal admission: a strangled whine that should not be as sexy as it is. 

Felix tangles a hand in Sylvain’s hair and silences that sound with a heated kiss. It wouldn’t do for him to get so worked up over a thing like that this soon. He’s just going to need to keep Sylvain’s mouth occupied. Fortunately for Sylvain, that’s one of his favorite things to do. 

He pulls Sylvain’s head back with the fingers still laced into his hair- not too rough yet, he’d like it too much and then there would be the return of those pesky arousing noises. Sylvain is panting, eyes wide, his neck bared in submission, and the sight of it is enough to make Felix chuckle huskily and palm at the cock straining against him.

“Looks like you’ve gotten a little ahead of yourself here.”

Felix tsks and presses at the head with a firm finger. There is a slight wetness there to greet him and he rubs at it teasingly with the pad of his thumb.

“Let me out of this damn chair if you want me to do something about it.”

Sylvain scrambles off of him and undoes his pants, sighing in relief as his cock peeks out at Felix from the place where it points upward against his stomach. He follows Felix with a hungry expression as the younger man pulls himself from the furniture and heads to their bedroom without a single glance of acknowledgement.

Felix didn’t take the lead very often, but when he did he was incorrigibly adept at it. Sylvain’s cock twitched just by thinking about how intense some of their previous sessions had been.

Felix takes his time, sitting on the edge of their bed, starting to undress himself with all of the enthusiasm of folding the Sunday laundry. It’s the waiting, he knows, that will get Sylvain worked up more than anything else he does. 

Sylvain knows exactly what’s happening. He bites his lip to prevent himself from whining as he can’t help but pull his pants down and stroke his leaking length in anticipation. Felix can hear his small soft moans from where he’s standing in the doorway waiting to be summoned. 

“Stop touching yourself and this will go much faster for you.”

He smirks as he watches Sylvain relinquish the hold on his cock and dig his fingernails into his thigh instead. Felix picks up the pace slightly, as promised. His socks are off now and flung away as he works his belt buckle and slides it from its slot, setting it aside on the night table for potential future use. 

The action is not missed by Sylvain, who gulps, and watches Felix’s progress through lidded eyes. He slides his pants down, leaning further back onto the bed as he does, giving Sylvain a great view of every inch of his emerging skin. 

Now that his legs are free, he crawls toward the the center, lifting his shirt as he goes and throwing it directly at Sylvain’s gawking face. It falls short of its target but distracts him enough for Felix’s true intention. When Sylvain refocuses it is to a fully nude Felix, hand pressed firmly between his thighs, playing with himself, leisurely.

“F..Felix.” Sylvain looks like he is about to explode withholding all that pent up energy, but he continues to stand there, waiting until he’s invited. He’s being so good for Felix already. He deserves a little reward.

“That look on your face tells me you’re hungry. Come here.” He spreads his legs, dragging Sylvain’s face to his center once he rushes onto their bed. Sylvain whimpers excitedly and immediately moans into his wet folds when he’s pushed flush against them, lapping insistently and sucking noisily at every inch of Felix’s sex that he can reach.

Felix shudders and twists his fingers even deeper into the scarlet curls, alternating between pushing and pulling the pressure of his face away until the pleasure is no longer so overwhelming. Sylvain has always been so _so_ good at this that he has to restrain him or he’ll come far sooner than he wants to. 

Sylvain gives himself willingly, gradually tilting his face upward until his hot, nimble, tongue is toying with Felix’s cock. Felix hisses his satisfaction, pushing his head closer exactly where he wants it and Sylvain gets the hint immediately. He opens his lust blown eyes at the same time he takes Felix’s length into his mouth, humming around it as he sucks and rolls his tongue over and underneath it skillfully. 

“Yes..that’s good. That’s it..” Felix begins to roll his hips into Sylvain, dictating the pace of his pleasure. He watches as Sylvain shifts with him, slinking a hand down to relieve some of the pressure of his cock straining against the sheets. 

But it’s not time for that quite yet, and Felix tells him so without hesitation. He administers a slightly harder tug of the hair, enough to illicit another one of those noises he hates to admit he loves, and pulls Sylvain’s face back and all the way up so that he can lean forward to capture his lips.

Sylvain goes slack and moans unashamedly deep and loud as Felix licks all of the taste of himself from his mouth. He pulls back when he’s satisfied that there’s nothing left and yanks Sylvain’s hand away from where he grasps his cock, kneading their interlaced fingers into the muscle of his ass instead. 

“No touching. I have plans for that.” Felix gives a short nod to the front end of the bed. “Get over there and lie on your back.”

Sylvain eagerly goes, rolling over breathlessly, his hands trembling from excitement. His cock is at full attention and his beaming smile is pressed hard and high against his rosy cheeks. Felix pretends like it doesn’t affect him as much as it does as he climbs over Sylvain and begins to mark his neck, running his fingernails over his scalp and pulling his hair every so often when he finds a particularly delicious spot.

Sylvain is always so vocal when they fuck, but he turns it up even more when Felix facilitates it. Variations of Felix’s name tumble near constantly from his mouth, only broken from the gasps and moans he can’t seem to hold back at Felix’s forward treatment.

“Shut up.” Felix growls, but there is no real sting to the command. “You’re distracting.” 

Sylvain pants a shadow of a laugh, arching and aching to rub his cock against any bit of Felix that he can reach.

“Love it.. love when you’re so bossy in bed.”

He really does, and Felix knows it. Still, he keeps it simple and only ever says exactly what he intends on doing to Sylvain before he follows through on it. Somehow, the omission of the hordes of dirty talk that Sylvain would normally lavish upon Felix when he’s in charge is even hotter when he’s not.

Felix pushes his head down hard against the pillow, coaxing it to the side so the vibration of his words can tickle Sylvain’s cheek.

“Don’t make another sound until you come screaming my name.” 

Sylvain’s body shivers his response, his lips tight with the effort of obeying Felix’s demand. He has to bite down hard and allow his eyes to roll back into his head when Felix reaches for his cock and slowly eases himself onto it. 

He rocks himself at a careful pace once he is seated, adjusting to the stretch. He takes the opportunity to distract himself by exploring Sylvain’s chest, leaving little indents of his teeth where he pleases while he tweaks his nipples. Felix leans forward to take one into his mouth, smirking under the midnight blue curtain of his bangs. He is full on teasing Sylvain at this point, knowing how difficult it is for him to remain quiet with the sight of a needy yet authoritative Felix above him.

* * *

  
Sylvain exhales slowly and carefully, making sure not to let the moan bubbling in his throat go with it. Breathing is okay. Breathing doesn’t count, right? 

Felix sighs, and apparently breathing is fine because he arches back, pushing his fingers into Sylvain’s thighs and snaps his hips forward at a much more reasonable pace. Sylvain tries not to shake beneath him at the overwhelming pressure of his heat and the sound of Felix moaning, much louder than he usually does. It’s something he hasn’t heard in a while and his ears are heated as he hones in on the exquisite noises.

It’s downright torturous that he can’t join him in vocalizing his satisfaction over their lovemaking. He focuses instead on the pride and adoration he feels watching his lover enjoy himself so much, bouncing fervently on his cock with his face twisted in passion. He rubs circles into Felix’s hips and begins to thrust back, wanting to give Felix as much pleasure as he can after all the pain they’d struggled through during the first three seasons of the year. 

“F..fuck. Sylvain.”

Felix clenches hard and falls forward, panting and limp against his chest as he comes on his cock. Sylvain nearly breaks his rule at the feeling of the tight heat pulsing around him, but he won’t let this be the end. Felix deserves more than just that one orgasm. 

He takes over, grabbing Felix firmly and flipping him onto his back. There is a slight protesting grunt that turns into a long uninhibited moan when Sylvain slides in and out of him at a faster and firmer rate than what was previously set. Felix relaxes into the shift and takes the opportunity to study his partner as the heat in his stomach settles low again, already building toward release even so soon after his first peak. Sweat beads on Sylvain’s forehead and his lips are pursed in determination to bring his partner to the edge again as he speaks only through the slapping of skin. 

“You…you fucking insatiable..you monster..”

Felix is apparently having a hard time concentrating on his insults through the haze and the swift, rough, thrusts that are making his breath catch as he’s jerked back and forth. Sylvain’s laughter is held in his smoldering eyes when he reaches forward to swallow the sounds, sucking them off Felix’s lips as if they were his own. 

Sylvain moves more insistently against him, crushing their bodies together. He switches to pushing deep and hard and fast against his cervix and Felix actually screams his affirmation at the incredible feeling of the pressure. 

“Yes that! Don’t stop hitting it right there..” 

Sylvain growls at the request, but Felix lets it go, lost as he is in chasing the fullness of Sylvain’s cock filling him just as far up inside him as he can possibly go. He pulls his hair again, biting at Sylvain’s lower lip as he whimpers and curses, his other hand pushing roughly at Sylvain’s ass as if he could somehow force more of the redhead’s girth inside of him. 

He comes a second time with a strangled sound, breaking against Sylvain’s lips and tilting his head up as he flails wildly underneath him. Sylvain holds Felix firmly so he doesn’t dislodge himself from how he’s fully sheathed, letting the waves of his pleasure coarse through his own pulsing cock, threatening to spill his seed at any moment in reaction to the spasms.

His voice is hoarse and wrecked when he finally speaks. “Felix.. Fe..I’m gonna come now.” He shudders as he struggles not to right there in the middle of his admission. 

Felix wraps his thighs around him with a punishing pressure, arching even more as the pulsing picks up again with the anticipation of Sylvain’s promise. “Fucking do it then. Fill me.” 

Sylvain doesn’t even need to move again to find his release. The delicious vibrating heat of Felix’s walls around him and the heady weight of those words are all he needs to explode with a long, almost sobbing, cry of Felix’s name. Felix rolls into him, still arched with his ankles locked against his back, riding it out with a primal greed and finding an additional unanticipated orgasm coaxed from him. 

They lay connected and panting together, Sylvain leaving soft kisses on Felix’s sweaty skin, keening at the aftershocks until everything stills and his softened cock slips out of him. Felix wrinkles his nose at the smell of sex permeating the air and the feeling of semen dribbling onto the sheets. 

He weakly nudges at Sylvain. “You reek. Go take a bath.” 

Sylvain laughs and nips at his neck. “You’re in the same boat as I am here, Fe. Don’t worry, we’ll take care of that reeeeeal soon.” He chuckles in an overconfident manner toward the end of his sentence as if he knows some double connotation that he’s sure Felix is going to beg him to reveal.

Felix just rolls his eyes, knowing that Sylvain is the more impatient one in these matters and he’ll just get around to telling him after they’re cleaned up.

“What are you even talking about? We’re going to take care of it now.” He’ll be damned if they’re going to sit in this filth while Sylvain croons more hints about his stupid teasing secrets. 

Sylvain whines, pulling up with a pout and crossing his arms under his chest. “Don’t you want to guess where I’m taking you tomorrow??” 

“No. I’ll just find out then.” He pushes at him again, wiggling with distaste as he manages to get up and he feels more of their combined juices sliding out of him. Sylvain’s pout increases, this time spreading to his eyes and becoming borderline pathetic. Felix shakes his head as he pulls his sweaty tangles free from the elastic he forgot to remove. He can’t believe that Sylvain is somehow _older_ than him. 

He sighs, but a soft smile is pressed into the corner of Sylvain’s mouth as Felix leans in to kiss him. “Tomorrow.” Felix reiterates as he stands and stretches, wasting no time in taking Sylvain’s hand while he leads them toward the shower. He pushes Sylvain inside and straddles him against the wall, smirking at the way his eyes are already darkening when he angles his hips and the warm water begins to pool between them. “I’m looking forward to it.” 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I cry just as much as Sylvain and Felix did while writing this chapter? Of course I did.
> 
> Some more sads just before the upside. Healing isn’t linear, but the intensity of our trauma doesn’t remain exactly the same over time either.

Sylvain had been driving for over an hour now and Felix’s nervous energy was palpable. He drums his fingers against the window, sighing at the same blur of green that’s occupied his vision for most of their journey. Sylvain’s grin is cheesy as he hums along to the stupid Greatest Love Songs of All Time CD that he loves to annoy Felix with whenever they take a trip that’s further than 30 minutes away. 

“I swear I’ll pinch your tongue if you press repeat on Marvin Gaye one more time. Why can’t you ever listen to anything else?”

Felix growls when Sylvain sticks his tongue out in defiance at the statement at and winks. His toned arms casually flexing on the steering wheel draws more attention from Felix’s wandering eyes than they should. 

Sylvain notices, because there’s nothing Felix can seem to hide from him anymore, and plays it up.

“Hmmm but then think..what use am I to you without the full ability of my tongue?”

He swipes it across his upper lip and chuckles when Felix snorts and turns his blushing face away from him to thud grumpily against the window. That window had become Felix’s unexpected saving grace during the past hour. Sylvain was even more obscene today than usual, and it made Felix swallow a lump in his throat thinking about just where he could be taking him that has him in such a mood.

He tugs absentmindedly at his scarf. It isn’t cold in the car with the heater on, but he’d insisted on wearing it almost everywhere since he’d unexpectedly received it in the mail a week ago. 

_Dear Felix,_

_I hope you aren’t mad that I’m sending you this. Your address is in our system and I didn’t mean to invade your privacy, but I didn’t know any other way to give it to you. I knitted it from Bernat Satin! Did you know? Pink and Blue can mean a lot of different things. They’re the colors of our flag, but they’re also the colors of the ribbon that symbolizes pregnancy and infant loss._

_I hope it’s able to keep you warm this Winter. If you don’t like it, it’s okay, you can send it back! Just, please remember that no matter what, you aren’t alone in either situation. You have more people than you realize who are rooting for your happiness._

_Wishing you all the best in your recovery,_

_Bernadetta._

Felix had spent the next five minutes holding the soft gift in his trembling hands, refusing to soil it with his tears. He immediately afterward found Bernadetta’s Etsy to contact her and give his thanks. Now that he had her information, he was preparing a place to feature her work in one of his exhibits. He hadn’t told anyone yet, but he sent her a picture of him wearing the scarf before he left today, promising her that he did indeed like it and that he would find some way to pay her back for her kindness. 

“Alright babe, get ready. We’re almost there.” 

Felix shakes his head and glances outside again. The trees are even darker and thicker, and the rich scent of soil permeates through the door. The sun was already close to setting. What had Sylvain taken him here for— so they could get lost in the woods and eaten by a wild animal? 

“Where the hell are we?” He shoots at Sylvain when he parks in front of what looks like a lodge. There are a few people hanging around, not doing much of anything, and Felix hopes he’s not expected to socialize with them.

“Oh my, you’re especially spicy today, Fe. It’s going to be so nice to see you relax in a bit.” 

Felix grumbles that he’s going to stay in the car while Sylvain does whatever it is he needs to get out for. Sylvain nods and gives him a small kiss on the cheek which Felix begrudgingly allows despite the strange looks he feels in the back of his head. When Sylvain returns, it’s not with a key like he expected. He’s carrying a small bucket and some towels, along with some soaps and various salts. 

“Ready, Felix? I’m gonna take care of you tonight, my darling.” 

Felix blushes and stutters at Sylvain to shut up even though there’s no longer anyone around to hear. He has an idea of what’s going on now. 

“Did you really take me all the way out here just to..give me a bath?” 

Sylvain laughs at his supposedly amusing expression of horror. “Of course not, Fe! There’s a bunch of hot springs around here and we’ve got our pick of the most private ones. I thought you noticed a few of them along the way.”

Felix swallows. He hadn’t. He was too caught up in his thoughts, like he always is now.

“What makes you think I’d like something like that…?”

Sylvain shuffles all of the items he’s carrying onto one side of his body and leans forward to grab Felix’s chin, bringing him into a soft kiss.

“I know you’ll end up loving it, actually. Just trust your husband for once, yeah?”

Felix groans, and slips his hands over his face in embarrassment. They were really going to do this, huh? He was really going to do this. Of course he was. He can’t say no to the very specific face Sylvain is making right now, and the greedy redhead knew that.

“Fine… but there really better be no one else around.” 

Sylvain makes a happy noise, grabbing Felix’s hand and proceeding to immediately lead him through a cleared path in the direction of the sunset.

“Only you and I, Fe. I promise.” 

* * *

  
The smells of the forest settle into Felix’s nose as he follows the path, already relaxing him. Felix has always loved the solitude of forests. He feels more comfortable around animals than most people in general, and most animals avoided him in these places anyway. Sylvain’s hand is still warm and firm in his as he walks slightly shifted ahead, though it must be getting uncomfortable for him to continue to carry everything all slumped up against his body like that.

“How much longer until we’re there?”

To anyone other than Sylvain, it seems like Felix is just being impatient, but his husband can hear his concern for him in his voice and he turns to smile at the grumpy man he’s still ecstatic he married.

“Not long at all. Can’t wait to settle behind you and soak all our worries away.” 

Sylvain’s hair is glowing in the sunset. The swaying of the trees beyond them look like they are bowing toward him in reverence. Felix is unable to hold back a shiver that he hopes he can pass off as being from the cold, even though he’s wearing many layers more than Sylvain right now. He’s always run much hotter than Felix, but he’s seriously only in a tight T-shirt and jeans..how does he handle it? 

The trees soon break away and widen into a small clearing with multiple pools of different depths and widths. Sylvain walks over to the biggest one, which also happens to be the furthest away, leaving Felix awkwardly standing at the opening, watching him set all of the items down and distribute them evenly around the rocks that surround the hot spring of his choice. Felix’s mind is buzzing, trying to gather some important piece of information that he doesn’t seem to recall is extremely relevant in this situation. 

It doesn’t hit him until Sylvain begins to undress, and he gawks at the smooth, muscled, planes of his chest that they are going to have to be naked. 

“H..hey! Stop that..” Felix finds himself choking the words out as Sylvain unbuttons his pants and starts to slide them off. 

Sylvain cocks an eyebrow at him, indicating for Felix to come closer. “What, you want more of a show?” He grins like a Lynx. “I can do that.” 

“No! I mean— god, is sex all you think about? Put your clothes back on. We’re in public.”

Sylvain rolls his eyes as he rolls his pants the rest of the way down and tugs them off. “There’s no one around here, Fe. We’re guaranteed our privacy. Promise. Now come over here.” He raises one finger to beckon him, wicked hunger in his eyes. “If you hurry, I’ll let you take the last bit of them off.” 

Felix reddens and tugs at his scarf again. It was quickly becoming a stim that he’d have to watch if he was going to keep it in good shape. He didn’t want to lose control of his strength one day and have to ask Bernadetta repair it. 

“Fine, I’m coming! But I’m not taking them off..you barely had anything on to begin with you pervert.” 

Sylvain sighs, but teases the front of his underwear with a mischievous smile, waiting for Felix to come over as he promised. “I just can’t win when it comes to my virtuous husband! Don’t worry, I’m still saving myself for the renewal of our vows.” 

“Shut up.”

Felix’s fingers take over the place where Sylvain was teasing and pull his underwear down in one swift motion, turning him around and pushing him toward the spring. Sylvain gets the picture, but takes his time, stretching up and to the side, rippling the muscles in his back before stepping slowly into the water and sinking down as gracefully and comfortably as if he was born there. 

Felix gulps. He slowly and carefully begins removing his own layers, eyes darting to the side and feeling just as exposed and innocent as Sylvain’s teasing suggested he was. He takes great care in setting his clothes to the side before he turns and approaches Sylvain’s open arms to settle in against his back.

“There now. Was that so hard?” Sylvain’s lips kiss a trail up the side of Felix’s neck.

“Fuck you.”

There is no trace of venom in his words. In fact, he cuts off into a shaky breath.

“There better not be any random hiker out tonight.”

He bites his lip at the feeling of Sylvain’s amorous chuckle, low and deep in his ear as his hands begin to dip lower down his chest and circle just above his hipbones.

“There won’t be. But it’s kind of exciting to think about putting on a show just in case, right..?” 

There is no one around to see if he murders Sylvain right here and now. The thought is tempting enough to make his fingers twitch. 

“Don’t.” Felix clenches his jaw, half angered, half aroused, and fully aghast at just how much Sylvain can make even his furthest fantasies sound appealing when he presses against him like that and breathes the filthy thoughts to life against his skin.

A kiss of apology is pressed against the back of his neck. “I’m just kidding babe. Just us tonight. Don’t worry.”

Felix sighs and reclines fully against Sylvain, letting him explore his body mindlessly. The experience is pleasant and sensual, something he’d never thought he’d find himself enjoying, but the warmth of the water and the cool, crisp, mountain air make for a surprisingly healing combination.

Sylvain reaches forward to grab some soap and a washcloth and proceeds to wash Felix’s back, kissing as he goes, until Felix starts trembling from the attention. They are both half hard, but the knowledge is ignored for the sake of tenderness. Felix realizes that this isn’t some strange sexual escapade where Sylvain wants to fuck him in the middle of the forest, and doting on him is what Sylvain has actually brought him here to do. He mewls as he lets himself go limp and allows Sylvain to worship his body. 

“There we go, love. I want you exactly like this.” Sylvain kisses his forehead as Felix turns his face inward to rest on his collarbone, eyes closed and breathing low and even. 

“You’re so handsome, my darling. So good and sweet and perfect for me.” Felix shudders and presses himself even further back at the praise. A choked noise of disbelief falls from his lips as Sylvain leans forward to pull him in to curl directly into his lap. 

“Sylvain..” He doesn’t dare open his eyes as he reaches up to feel the curve of Sylvain’s jaw above him. “I’m sorry.”

Sylvain grabs the fingers caressing his jaw and brings them to his lips to kiss, twice. “Whatever for, my dear? There’s nothing left you could ever need to apologize for.” 

Felix feels weak under the water and weight of his husband pressing so reassuringly against him. His words break into something not quite resembling sobs. “I’m..sorry.. I couldn’t..I can’t. He died..”

Sylvain stills. Felix knows he shouldn’t have brought it up, but it had been bubbling underneath him the whole day and now it was here, flooding out of him when he was at his most vulnerable. 

They’d never known the gender of their child. It was too soon, and too messy, to tell. But Felix had gotten it into his head that it was a boy and hadn’t been able to let the idea go even after he admitted it to Sylvain one night. Their son. Their Levi... A tear makes it’s way down his face and he hopes that Sylvain can’t see it or feel it, nestled as they are in the water.

Sylvain nuzzles his head against Felix. The only sound he makes for minutes as he holds his husband is a soft, sad, sigh. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and serious, and obviously long thought out.

“Yes. He did die. I know you miss him. We both do. We always will. But Felix— it’s not that you couldn’t do it. It wasn’t your fault, you know that now. What happened to us...it happens to all kinds of couples, more commonly than we’re raised to believe.”

He raises Felix’s lips to meet his. The kiss is short and sweet and makes Felix buzz with the feeling that he is not quite present, that their intertwining souls are ensconced elsewhere outside of the pool and outside of the limitations of their bodies. 

“Your body performed perfectly. It continues to perform perfectly. You are the man I will love no matter what happens until the day I die. More than anything else, I want to take my last breath together with you by my side.”

Felix wails and digs his fingers into Sylvain’s arms. All of the venom he wasn’t aware was still eating away at his heart begins to drain at the benevolent sincerity of his husband’s words. He reaches upward to tangle his hands in Sylvain’s hair and cut his suffering noises off short with messy, desperate, kisses. 

“My..my body..I want.. Sylvain! I want another chance..I want to give him to you..what you deserve..”

Sylvain holds him tightly into the crook of his neck as the water still sloshes around them from their emotional jostling. “I have everything I deserve and more right here.” He kisses Felix’s temple. “I’m afraid I can never come close to giving you everything you deserve, Felix..you deserve so much, my Prince.. I would make you a King even if it meant my head.” 

Felix swallows another cry, sniffling and willing himself to calm down. “You do..you..you idiot. I love you, you fucking sentimental fool! That’s why..I want to have an actual kid with you..like I’d bother going through this for anyone else.” 

Sylvain throws his head back and laughs sorrowfully- a small sound that somehow echoes louder than any other noise they’d made under the moon now bathing their bare chests in her phosphorus light.

“I want what you want, my heart. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Felix shifts in his lap, pulling up and cupping Sylvain’s broad jaw with his hands, looking him dead on in the eyes with a serious focus. 

“I want to give him to you properly this time. Your son. I will deliver him..soon. I promise. If you’ll give me another chance.”

Sylvain is silent for many moments after Felix cuts off. His hands easily cover the entirety of the back of Felix’s skull where he cradles him, bringing their foreheads together to join him in whimpering.

“You give me so much, Felix..without me even asking, you give me my world. Just promise me, that this won’t make you take it away from me. I can’t bear to lose you again.” 

Their combined tears meet somewhere between the junction of their lips and their noses as they kiss not for pleasure or even relief, but for connection. Felix only breaks away when he’s positive he’s gathered enough breath in his aching lungs to say it.

“I promise.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain’s “I’d make you a King” line is a reference to the prequel when Felix is gathering flowers with Hilda and he can’t think of another way to tell Sylvain that he’s a boy other than stating that he’s a Prince. Just a sappy little thing I put in here to show how their relationship has progressed and how fondly Sylvain thinks back about those days even after all this time. :’)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just created a new twitter! There will be fic updates and many a gay FE retweets so give me a follow if you’re interested in that sort of thing. :)
> 
> https://www.twitter.com/thefriedpipes
> 
> This chapter is short, I know, but oof. I got really emotional when I was writing it and I found it difficult to continue. As an AFAB trans person, let’s just say my experiences and personal feelings about pregnancy are complex and this fic is a bringing a lot of stuff to the surface that I didn’t foresee dealing with. 
> 
> My boys will get their happy ending though, I promise!
> 
> Thanks as always for your emotional support through kudos and comments. 💙 I always welcome your feedback.

Before either of them knew it, it was February again and Felix’s birthday was looming over him like an impossible darkness. He never liked it as it was, but now..

Now, it was just another deathday. The day after a hope predestined to fail was born. One year ago, he’d woken up to Sylvain’s fingers splayed lovingly over his navel, whispering his excitement and affection for Felix in his ear. This year, he awoke to silence, a soft kiss on the crown of his head, heaviness dragging his heart down into his stomach. Sylvain took the day off work to be with him, but it seemed as if there was no point, because all Felix could do is lie there for hours, eyelids closed, staring at the nothingness that consumed him.

“I love you Felix.”

Sylvain brushes his hair and pulls it back into a messy bun, just how he likes it. Was he sitting up now? For how long? Did Sylvain bring him here, to the bathroom, or had he somehow carried his own body without noticing?

There’s somebody staring at him in the mirror. They are deathly pale, cheeks gaunt with starvation, black eyes bulging as they wail and wail and wail. The unearthly sound pulses in his ears so severely his head might burst. He slams his hands against them, shaking his head back and forth. He can feel Sylvain behind him, saying something he can’t make out, but the firm fingers on his shoulders are enough to begin to calm him. His vision clears and the pulsing dulls as his breath comes steadier and deeper.

The person in the mirror is gone. It is only him and Sylvain now, tired and despondent, but not monstrous in the least.

“My love.” Sylvain kisses his temple, rubbing his thumb down the side of his cheek.

“My life.” The next kiss is on his nose.

“My every breath.”

Soft lips meet his, so light that they are almost not even present. Felix finally releases all the air he’d been holding pent up within him and gives a short, strangled sob, tangling his hands into Sylvain’s hair and dropping his face into the crook of his neck.

“Take me back to bed.” He tightens his hold in the scarlet spikes. “Make love to me, Sylvain. Please.”

Sylvain scoops Felix up into his arms as if he weighs nothing at all, nuzzling their foreheads together before he eases them back onto the mattress, nimble fingers freeing Felix of the fabric that confines him. He wants Sylvain to dig those nails in deeper, remove the overwhelming weight that traps him beneath his skin.

“You are everything to me, Felix. Stay with me, baby.”

Felix blinks, extending his hand to the halo drifting peacefully over his head. His love is so bright and warm, even in the fog and the storm that pelters them. He pulls Sylvain down, pressing against him until he feels like the pressure might split his soul from his body.

“Show me how to live.”

His birthday and the anniversary of what would come to be his miscarriage are spent in a haze of pleasure and pain. The low, steady, beating of Sylvain’s heart resting on his chest reminds him that he is meant to do more than merely exist.

* * *

  
Days later, Felix wakes up early to a body that does not ache unendingly without grief. It’s raining again, and Sylvain is warm as always wrapped around his side. Today he intends to return to his studio for the first time in months.

Ingrid is already awake and making breakfast when he heads downstairs. It is strangely peaceful listening to her hum happily as she swirls eggs and chunks of meat and vegetables in a bowl before she pours them into a pan. Felix opens the fridge, looking for something quick and mild to have before he heads out, frowning at the birthday cake Annette had insisted he take when he visited her and Ashe’s flower shop at Bernadetta’s request. Her friends were gentle and sweet and far too peppy for his tastes, but he’d gotten to know them over the past few months regardless.

The sizzling of the frying pan is an interesting contrast against the splattering of rain on the windowpane. Felix listens to it as Ingrid asks him a few questions about what they’ll be doing today. He prepares some oatmeal and toast, trying not to feel sick about the events ahead of him.

They’re opening a few new exhibits in the upcoming weeks and will be welcoming two artists to their team. Bernadetta is a given, not only is her knitting impressive, but he’s seen some of the paintings she’s hidden away in her room and he wants them on his wall. Ignatz, a distant acquaintance from his college days, recently moved to the area and contacted Felix to congratulate him on his success. Felix was intrigued by how his artistry had grown, particularly his hyperrealism, and his kind, earnest, nature will fit in well with Marianne and Hilda. 

His studio has been well kept, under the loving care of his friends. Felix smiles as he runs a hand over his desk and it comes away without a speck of dust. He’d missed being here. His visits were so sporadic over the past year and he’d never truly settled in to working on anything. He shuffles around, trying to remind himself of where his supplies are. Marianne and Hilda moved a few things and Ingrid’s style of organization is so frustratingly different than his.

He comes across a small box, neatly tucked in the corner. There are a few finished pieces, more for practice than anything. Most of them are works in progress. His hands still when he reaches toward the bottom and catches sight of soft, indistinct, lines on a mostly white canvas.

He pulls it free and cradles it for a moment, thinking of the intention, of the image that could not manifest clearly in his mind when he set his brush to it before.

He can see it now. It’s something that begs to be released, to be brought to life by the skillful patience of his hands and the fidelity of his unwavering heart.

He carefully, slowly, sketches the remainder of the image and prepares the colors, pushing all of his brushes to the side and closing his eyes as he dips his fingers into the grooves of the palette. He does not hold back his tears as he slides them across, covering the blankness- the haunting white material that’s hung like a noose around his neck the whole year long.

Each stroke feels like it has the potential to kill, but he continues. When his tears drop from the tip of his nose, he merely smears them in until they become another intimate aspect of the painting.

It’s no problem at all to recall. He can see it as well as the darkened clouds before him. He can feel it as the precipitation layers over the atmosphere moistening his skin. The tiny round coil that takes shape before his eyes seems to dance below the sparks of his fingertips, warmth connecting the still image from the most traumatizing appointment of his life to hands that can finally touch him at long last.

 _Levi_.

Everything at once seems staggeringly bright. The fullness of colors he had not noticed since they learned their child was gone erupts all around him. He can’t remember ever experiencing them this way. Perhaps, there are some hues which can only be revealed to us by the liberty of the dead.

Felix’s fingertips are deeply stained with the effort of his atonement. Swatches of many complimentary colors gather under his fingernails, but the overwhelming factor of his fashion is a rich bodied red. He curls his fingers inward in awe, marveling at how the simple color has come to buy freedom for him and his son. He realizes yet another thing that baits his breath when he cups them together.

It is the closest he’s ever come to recreating the color of Sylvain’s hair.

This time, when Hilda bids him farewell, he smiles. It’s a small, delicate, line- a flickering glow, but it’s something. The sky has taken a break from its lament and the smell of fresh rain settles into lungs that breathe with a new purpose. Felix does not stop to vomit in the sewer on the way to his car. There is nothing left to wash away.

Sylvain is sitting there waiting for him in that abominable chair. He holds out his arms, a ghost of a pout on his face. Felix leans into him, kissing him like he’s the air he’s never breathed before. He straddles him, the same small smile on his face and the beginning of lightness in his eyes.

“I have something for you.”

Sylvain is hesitant to let him move from his spot on his lap, but Felix places a finger on his lips as he bends down and retrieves the canvas from his bag. He holds it clutched inward at his chest at first, overcome with emotions about what he’s done and how much of his heart he is about to bare to Sylvain.

Sylvain runs his thumb softly over Felix’s trembling lips. “What do you have for me, love?”

He sighs, relaxing into the touch, and turns the painting around. He nudges it forward until Sylvain takes it from him, not waiting even a moment for him to try and appraise it on his own.

“It’s our son. I said I’d give him to you soon.”

Sylvain’s hands start to shake. His eyebrows twist into an impossible expression. “Felix..”

Felix’s own hands find a spot in the center of his lap. He watches as Sylvain attempts to process about twenty different emotions all at once. Affection blooms in his heart as a tear makes it’s way down Sylvain’s face. Through it all, he remains smiling.

“He’s..he’s beautiful. You’re beautiful. Thank you so much..”

He gently places the painting on the table to his left and slides his hands up the sides of Felix’s neck until he reaches his face. Sylvain beams at him, bringing himself forward to kiss him, and Felix tastes the tears that are still coming. The tears taste different somehow, when you are healing. He finds they taste a little better each time.

They spend the rest of the night whispering all the different ways they love each other as their bodies move like a single, gossamer, swan.

When Felix misses his first period, he doesn’t tell Sylvain and he tries not to think about it. By its second absence, he doesn’t come to him with tears in his eyes, only a smile as wide and bright as the man who has loved him and held him through damn near all the years of his life.

“I have something else for you.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is just full of sappiness and I couldn’t resist adding in Dedue as Ashe’s boyfriend because he just returned as I was finishing chapter 16 and it made me emotional. 💙

“Felix! What are you doing?”

Felix winces and freezes in an awkward position. Ingrid’s shrill voice is something he still hasn’t gotten used to after decades of hearing it. On top of that, he _was_ engaging in some admittedly..questionable behavior. Of course, it was her that had to find him.

He retracts his hand from the Tupperware they kept in the cupboard well above the refrigerator. He knew why it was there. They all knew why it was there. It could not be more embarrassing that Ingrid was trying to corner him about it and make him say it out loud.

All he’s been able to think about in the past few months are sweets.

Sylvain had said it was cute at first. He’d bring home different kinds of sugary baked goods and watch with delight as Felix inhaled them, flushing with anger at how satisfying they tasted. Ingrid ruined everything when she brought home books about about what foods he should be eating for the baby to grow properly and shoved medical article after medical article in his face.

Felix scowls, feeling in a foul mood- especially now that he wasn’t going to get his treat. They don’t even keep anything else up here, so he can’t lie about what he was going for. He shuffles on the small step stool, not wanting to answer or turn around and look at her yet.

“Remember what Mercedes said.”

He does remember. Ingrid reminds him about it every day. He can recite the whole damn book of recipes she insisted on reading out loud to him while they were already eating dinner at the table. To her credit, she can’t eat and read at the same time— though she certainly tried. The scene alone was enough to suffer through it for just one night.

“She didn’t say I couldn’t have any…just some.”

He can’t see her behind him, but he just _knows_ that she is crossing her arms and giving him “that face”.

“Oh yeah? And just how much is ‘some’ to you?”

“.....”

“That’s what I thought. Now get down from there.”

Felix grumbles, but does what she says, only snapping at her to leave him alone as she comes over reminding him to be careful. He rubs his stomach in a silent apology to his fluttering.. sweet potato? He’s not sure. It might be a mango now. He’s about five months, but it’s not so exact it’s down to the week. All he knows is that he started to feel it moving nine days ago and Sylvain hasn’t been able to keep his hands off him since.

“Everything okay, Felix?”

He must have been making a face while he was thinking about how irritatingly fond he’s become of Sylvain’s habit. At least he doesn’t do it in public. Well, Felix doesn’t really do anything in public anymore.

It’s a..difficult thing for a lot of people to accept, seeing two men openly love one another. It’s even more difficult for them to understand when he’s visibly pregnant- and that is very much the case now.

“I’m fine.”

Ingrid smiles at him when he drops his hand and puts the step stool away. She does care about him, and he is begrudgingly grateful that she is not only supportive, but wants to be involved. There are very few people in the world that he would allow to be in such a position.

“Good. Bernadetta should be here soon. I’m going to text her to make sure she knows to get something healthy while you’re out with her.”

Felix grunts disapprovingly. Bernadetta wasn’t going to be assertive about that at all, but let the woman think whatever she wants. They were going to make a sizable order from her favorite flower shop today and there’s no way Ashe or Annette didn’t bake him something when they knew ahead of time they were coming.

Bernadetta is the only person he knows that is nervous about being early. Apparently, she waited in her car outside for at least 15 minutes, because he went to take the trash out and she froze when they locked eyes. Felix walked back inside like nothing happened so he could finish getting ready and she didn’t even send a text.

How they managed to get stuff done whenever they needed to go to places together is beyond mortal understanding.

* * *

  
Ashe and Annette are ecstatic to see him. Annette immediately coos at his stomach, which has become something he just had to get used to whenever he sees her. Felix’s slight irritation is forgotten when Ashe hands him a cinnamon roll, beaming, and strikes up a much more interesting conversation than the nonsense syllables that Annette is currently babbling at his bump.

“Oh! Dedue is here today, tending to some of the new imports we received. I’m sure he’ll be delighted to meet you.”

Felix doubts that anyone has ever been “delighted” to meet him, except Sylvain, but that’s because his idiot is delighted by pretty much anything that will accept his attention which also moves.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”

Felix looks down at his stomach, doing his best to block out the spectacle of Annette rubbing her hands over it and singing an absolutely ridiculous song she made up about all the different fruits and vegetables you can grow during the four seasons. He was happy they were able to conceive again and he’s wanted this for so long, but..

..but it was harder than he thought, to deal with the staring.

He’s already dealt with it his entire life for so many other reasons. Even before he was openly transgender, he struggled to hide his autism. So many people thought he was being strange and rude, and yes, he’s certainly capable of it, but the difference is they treated it like it was an irrefutable trait of his identity instead of something that just..happens sometimes when you’re human. 

They told him it would get better as he got older, but he just got better at hiding it and dealing with it on his own— that’s all. He still didn’t even share everything he struggled about with Sylvain. There are just some things you can’t understand unless you’ve felt them from inside of your own skin.

As a trans man, that was more of a straight path for him once he got on testosterone. The social shift had been established and built upon when he was young enough that he merely needed to grow into himself physically. The anonymity of his work also helped until he felt more comfortable with his appearance.

When you’re pregnant there is no hiding it for long, and you just get more and more uncomfortable with time. When you’re pregnant, transgender, and autistic, there’s a lot more to handle than what’s written about in one of Ingrid’s books.

“I am sure, Felix. Try to have a little faith in me, he is my boyfriend after all.”

Ashe gives him a knowing look and a somewhat humorous one at Annette, who is by now on her second song. He leads them over to the counter to get the payment out of the way. Luckily, Annette finally notices Bernadetta looking at one of their new items and practically bounces toward her, almost tripping over a stack of bagged soil.

Felix’s favorite flower is the Gladiolus. It’s also known as the “sword lily”. They aren’t easy to grow here, the soil is too wet and rich, and right now they’re out of season. He doesn’t know much else about flowers, his garden is small, and Ingrid prefers to use it to grow food.

Bernadetta could go on for a long time about flowers whenever she was with Annette and Ashe. She loved arranging bouquets, and was very particular about creating the perfect combination out of all their symbolic meanings. Those kind of things interest him about as much a soggy bowl of oatmeal does.

The three of them are chattering away when Felix’s attention is drawn to a glint of silver and the heavy footsteps heading in his direction. The biggest man he has ever seen in his life is standing over by the back doorway with what looks like a mountain of bouquets. The pile he’s carrying is so large that Felix can hardly make out the piercing green eyes and sharp cheekbones behind them.

Ashe breaks away from what Felix is sure is a scintillating conversation to smile at the newcomer. 

“Ah, there’s Dedue! Do you need a hand?”

The man continues to walk forward, shaking his head as gently as he can so he doesn’t disturb the flowers.

“That will not be necessary. There are more in the truck that I can retrieve on my own once I have finished putting these away.”

Ashe nods, though he looks a little hesitant to allow Dedue to finish the job by himself. He gestures to Felix, introducing them, and Felix automatically attempts to cover his stomach. Dedue doesn’t seem to think anything is out of place in Felix’s reaction, merely giving him a short hello and leaving it at that.

That’s definitely the kind of person Felix appreciates. Man of few words. He wouldn’t have guessed that was Ashe’s type, but he’s with Sylvain so he really doesn’t have the right angle to judge here.

Dedue proceeds with his task of moving the rest of the bouquets inside while Annette insists on helping Felix and Bernadetta take his order to the car. The stamens tickle his nose and he tries not to gag. He doesn’t like the smell of them. He doesn’t care for the smell of most things right now. Ashe notices his grimace and convinces him to wait by the register while the three of them finish.

“I have something else for you besides the cinnamon rolls. Dedue helped me with it as a sort of a welcoming gift for your first meeting.”

That’s…unexpected. It’s a polite gesture, something Felix isn’t very accustomed to, but it’s exactly what Felix had come to expect from someone like Ashe. Dedue must be a better match for him than first impressions would suggest.

Felix taps his foot impatiently, the squirming in his stomach matching the fluttering in his womb. He smiles down at it, placing a hand low, directly on the movement.

“Eager to leave as well, huh?” He thinks rather longingly about enjoying another cinnamon roll, but he’d never risk such embarrassment as to forthright ask right now. The fluttering increases in response to his idea. Felix begins to salivate.

“Felix.”

Felix startles, snapping out of his sugar glazed daydream. Dedue is standing a respectable distance away, and his arms are no longer full of flowers. Instead he’s carrying a tray of treats, which all smell warm and fresh and very tempting to Felix. He curses as his stomach growls and tries not to look as interested as he is.

Dedue’s face has remained uniform during the few interactions Felix has had with him, but now there is a glint of humor in his eyes. Felix quickly whips his head away when he glances at him, yet he doesn’t seem to be bothered by the emotional distance.

“I was going to find the others and suggest we take a break to enjoy these. Will you join us?”

Felix’s eyes zoom in on the multiple cinnamon rolls lying on the tray, sizing them up to decide which one looks the most appetizing. He feels a faint blush encroaching and chastises himself for worrying about it. Dedue doesn’t even know him. It’s not like he can read his mind.

“If we’re all having one, I suppose it would be rude not to accept.” 

Dedue nods and soon returns with the three, who excitedly rush Felix into the break room and begin distributing the sweets. Annette giggles as she presses the exact cinnamon roll he’d deigned as perfect into his palm before munching on a sugar cookie and fussing over Dedue’s polite refusal at another slice of her cake.

Felix’s chest feels warm with affection. He’d spent so much of his life with only a few people he’d allowed to be close to him. He used to think that he was too different to get along with others, and that friends were something he just wasn’t meant to have. It’s taken him most of his life to realize that you can care for someone without understanding everything about them. He’s still working on it, but if there was just one lesson he could take from the devastation of the past few years, it would be that it taught him how much he needed the intimacy of other people. Even if he still struggled to make that known and how to reciprocate befittingly, he was lucky the people he knew now understood him enough to recognize his effort and meet him there.

Dedue abandons Annette by dumping her on poor Bernadetta, who has been trying to eat the same doughnut since they first entered but keeps on becoming startled by a noise or movement one of them would unintentionally make. He leans against the wall many feet away from Felix in a surprisingly comfortable silence for how shortly the two have known one another.

Felix relaxes enough to look at him again. He’s handsome enough to inspire an artistic response. His stoicism is enhanced by silver scars decorating his face. Ignatz would enjoy recreating them, and Sylvain would have his work cut out for him in a sculpture.

“Ashe tells me you are with child. Wonderful. I hope you will have many blessings in your future.”

The sudden commendation initially hits him like a punch to the gut. He breathes, reminding himself that it’s okay. Dedue isn’t judging him. He trusts Ashe not to bring anyone around who would.

“Thank you.”

“Please wait here a moment, if you would not mind. Allow me to retrieve something Ashe and I have prepared for you.”

Felix raises his eyebrow and remains still as his response. He’s nervous, but the proximity of his friends and the gentle manner of Ashe’s boyfriend is enough to cull the worst of his social anxiety.

Dedue returns promptly with a bouquet that is very different from the ones he ordered.

“I have arranged this for you. The flowers were hand grown by Ashe and I with their particular meanings in mind. You may find the symbolism listed in the attached card.”

Felix accepts the flowers numbly, unsure of what to say. His chest already tightens as he opens the card stuck to the wrapper and begins to read what is written inside.

_Felix,_

_I’m so very happy that Bernadetta brought you into our lives when she pulled you into our shop all those months ago. I have grown to appreciate our friendship quicker than I estimated. Dedue and I planned to create this bouquet as soon as I heard the happy news. I hope you will never forget that you have our support._

_Anemone- sickness( negative connotation) that is transformed into undying love, and anticipation.( positive connotations)_

_Iris- good news_

_Rosemary- rememberance_

_Purple Tulip- rebirth_

Felix’s hands shake as he reaches the end of Ashe’s elegant handwriting. He feels as if he’s stepped away from the cheery atmosphere of the room. He looks at his feet, blinking until a sharp nudge inside of him brings him back into focus. He grabs at his stomach, alarmed at the first kick of his unborn child.

He spies a ghost of a smile on Dedue’s reserved face. The presence of it alongside the situation is enchanting. Felix finds himself smiling back openly, a bark of what is a somewhat repressed laugh accompanying it as he breaks away to wipe at the inception of tears.

He’s happy. This moment isn’t something he ever foresaw, but now that it’s happening he’s never been more grateful that he didn’t give up on it. The nudge grows more insistent at the spike of his emotions as he thanks the both of them and they finally finish their business so he can head home.

Felix walks around the house for a while afterward, reflecting as he rearranges as much of their living room as his current body will allow him to. They still have so much to prepare for, but he takes a moment to appreciate all that they have currently within their grasp.

Sylvain returns from work to find Felix sitting on the couch in a rare moment of intimacy usually reserved for the minutes before they fall asleep. His shirt is pulled up, both hands resting on his stomach, gazing at the life within him with shining eyes.

“Sylvain.”

He doesn’t remove his hands or his eyes from the spot he’d carefully fixed them on many minutes prior.

“Come here.”

Sylvain shuffles over softly, dropping to his knees and placing his hands lovingly on Felix’s gathered thighs. Felix grabs one of Sylvain’s hands and tenderly places it on the spot which has gathered his entire attention even at the arrival of his husband after a long day apart. The responding nudge at the heavy warmth of his other father’s hand is the largest one yet, making both men react with surprise.

Sylvain’s eyes widen and his mouth turns from it’s slightly parted “oh” shape to something that wobbles with an emotion that is difficult to describe. He lays his head sideways onto Felix’s lap, so his cheek is resting directly on the sudden vigorous activity.

“Felix..”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun looking up all the different symbolism of the flowers. Some of what I picked might not go well together in reality, but I tried not to overthink it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My agenda is that Felix will end up being loved by as many characters as I can insert into this story because it’s what he deserves.
> 
> *TW* This chapter discusses some different types of pregnancy loss. Felix receives a phone call from the hospital at the end of this chapter and it ends on a cliffhanger. The next chapter will involve hurt characters and a hospital setting so if that is triggering to you, please know you will be able to safely skip it.*

Felix had a routine by the time he was deep into his 7th month.

He’d wake up just before the dawn, no matter when he actually fell asleep, with or without Sylvain’s drool on his shoulder. His damn kid kicked him like clockwork and demanded to be fed, like it was years later and they were already outside the door whining for attention and breakfast. It was annoying, but at least it was something that he could acclimate to after the first few weeks.

He spent most of his days resting to compensate, doing a little work when he could, and trying to find something that sounded edible- because of course too many things made him sick again.

There was another thing.

Horny. He was insatiable horny.

Sylvain loved it. Of course he did. Felix thought he’d be worn out by now with all of his demands. He decided to be very specific with his needs, give him a taste of his own medicine, and make him do all the work. After all, he had a very important task he needed to finish here- and the closer he got to the end the harder he felt his body work.

His body was.. a difficult concept to accept at the moment.

Of course, he knew that was something that happened in practically every pregnancy. No matter how well prepared you think you are, it’s still a shock when you realize just how rapid the changes are before your eyes. He was already so fucking huge and he still had a few months to go. How the hell Sylvain was still attracted to him, wasn’t repulsed like he was, was a mystery that simmered in the back of his mind all day long. It came forth in the moments when Sylvain was pressed against him, whether they were making love or just holding each other, or trying to sleep.

Lately he’d been crying over it- which was embarrassing, obviously. He’d do it during sex and beg Sylvain to keep going, because he was damned if his hormonally charged emotions were going to get in the way of getting them off. His mind and his body were locked in a war and he didn’t want to choose a side to fight on, so he tried to just give them both what they wanted.

Sylvain would stop, though. He’d kiss him all over his face and wipe the tears away with his thumbs and start saying stupid sappy shit that would just make him cry more.

_“Love you Felix. Love you so much. I love your body. I love that you’re carrying our child. You’re so handsome and perfect. So good to me.”_

He’d let Felix cry, waiting until he was silent and the mood would be ruined, then Felix would get antsy at the low heat churning near constantly in his gut and wrap his legs around his husband begging him to get on with it already.

The upside of this is that they’d be able to spend some time together before Sylvain went to work. His husband would laugh and nuzzle his face into Felix’s neck when he told him he reeked after all their morning sex then swoop him out of bed, despite his protests, and bring him into the shower. How Sylvain could still carry him so easily, like he weighed nothing, was something he’d never admit made his heart pound. At least he could blame his blush on a heat flash.

Everything Sylvain did was so tender. He’d always cared for Felix, of course- even when they were young and stupid he tried his best to make him feel loved.

This was almost overkill. They’ve been married so long, he shouldn’t be sitting here smiling like an idiot on his honeymoon, looking at Felix like he’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his life. Especially when he keeps missing his mouth and spilling his cheerios all over the kitchen table.

“Stop staring. You’re making a mess of yourself.”

Felix’s arms are crossed in their usual defiance and he keeps his flushed face pointedly turned to the side. His stomach growls, which further embarrasses him, but even the plain taste of cheerios sounds disgusting.

Sylvain laughs, and Felix isn’t sure which reaction makes him do so, but either way he flips him off with a small smirk on his face before he uncrosses his arms to lay them in his lap.

“Sorry babe. I can’t help it. You’re glowing.”

Felix growls at him. He is _not_. They just showered after all.

“I’m not glowing! I’m just..still hot from the shower— and this damn kid you put into me, might I remind you.”

Sylvain puts his elbows on the table and cradles his face in his hands, looking at Felix like he’s hung all the stars in the sky.

“Oh, please do. Remind me as many times as you’d like, Felix. It’s my favorite thing to reminisce about with you.”

Felix wants to punch him and kiss him at the same time, but he’s already settled deep and comfortable in his chair so he settles for scoffing at him.

“Think about it yourself. I don’t need to indulge your depraved fantasies.”

He actually was probably thinking about it just as much, if not more, than Sylvain was at the moment. His days were pretty open and slow, giving him a lot of time for reflection. He could barely work with the backaches he’d started having, and Mercedes warned him to listen to his body at the first signs of discomfort. He wasn’t good at listening to others give him advice on how to live, but he’d make exceptions for his midwife and his kid. 

“Ahhhh Felix, you’re so cruel to me! Can’t you just indulge me a little? After all, not just 30 minutes ago I was happy to indulge you.”

Felix’s ears are red now. What a terrible hot flash. He’d have to mention it to Mercedes. He’d also have to place in an order with Ashe for a large arrangement of lilies to commemorate Sylvain’s funeral.

A hard kick to the ribs makes Felix wince and forget any of the snarky comebacks he was preparing. Sylvain immediately stops his teasing and comes around to pull Felix’s chair back, helping him to his feet. Felix has stopped grumbling about it by now; pregnancy has taught him that there are times when accepting help from others is necessary.

“Feels like he has your ridiculously oversized hands and feet- and your clumsiness. He won’t stop reminding me.”

Sylvain just laughs and kisses his head while he walks him to the couch. Felix practically lives here now when Sylvain is at work. Sylvain eyes the cups and plates from the past few days that have accumulated in the living room. He’s usually impeccably clean and organized but they’ve been busy with things they didn’t even know they needed to prepare for.

Annette and Mercedes want to throw him a baby shower. Felix would rather walk on hot shards of glass than be the center of that kind of attention. Sylvain thinks it’s a great idea, because of course he does. Love is stupid and irrational and unfair to make him agree to this.

“Is there anything you need from me before I go, my love?”

Sylvain smooths the bangs out of Felix’s eyes. They’re getting too long. He’d have to cut them himself, there’s no way he’s going to some random barbershop or salon.

 _Just that you’d stay._ “No. I’m fine.”

He doesn’t want to be alone today, but it’s only for a few hours before Dimitri shows up and drives him to that stupid group meeting. He doesn’t want to go this week, but of course he says that every week, and he still finds himself there.

Dimitri is..well, Felix’s relationship with him has been up and down for a long time now.

He’s one of their oldest friends. The four of them had been very close up until the point that Glenn died. He and his parents had been there visiting when the car hit them and Dimitri was the only one who survived. He was pulled out of school and sent to live with his uncle so he never got the chance to mourn with them.

They lost contact for a while, and when they finally got together after graduation to celebrate, Dimitri had changed. He’d obviously been fighting some demons for years. Nobody had the courage to ask what he’d gone through when he was so closed off to them, but they witnessed his violent tendencies in a later reunion when they’d gone out drinking and he almost beat a man to death for coming on too strongly to Ingrid.

He’d gotten a _lot_ of therapy since then. Maybe even some medication. He still didn’t speak about it often, but he’s well enough now that Felix was no longer nervous to be around him.

“Text me if you need anything, okay? Or call me. It doesn’t matter what it’s for. I love hearing your voice.”

Felix snorts, but goes to kiss him anyway. Sylvain would just monopolize the conversation and ask him about all the little things he doesn’t need to worry about.

“Yeah, yeah. Just hurry up and come home to me, okay?”

He pulls Sylvain into a longer kiss this time. It makes his chest ache.

“Fe. I’ll always come home to you. There’s nowhere else in the world I’d rather be.”

It feels harder than usual to say goodbye to him today. Felix doesn’t like the clinginess he’s developed. Sylvain would stay if he asked him to, but that’s not a good idea. He’s going to need him to take time off sooner or later when the kid decides to get out of him.

Sooner than they’ll realize from the feel of it.

* * *

Dimitri lets himself in right around lunchtime and Felix is actually starving. He wolfs down the sandwich and chowder that Dimitri brought him from Panera in record time and still eyes Dimitri’s own half eaten salad. Dimitri laughs and pushes it toward him. Felix doesn’t even have the mind to act like he wants to refuse.

“I must say Felix, it’s wonderful to see you have your appetite back. It was difficult to see you looking so ill in the past month.”

Felix swallows, pointing his fork at Dimitri in an accusatory manner before he can gather the breath to speak.

“You didn’t see anything. I’ve always been fine. My appetite is normal for people in this situation.”

Dimitri chuckles, as if what he said was amusing and not merely the truth. Yeah, a lot of foods made him gag, but so what? There was an entire menu he could make out of the five different meals he constantly craved. That was enough for now, as far as he was concerned.

“My apologies. It wasn’t my intention to accuse your symptoms as being unusual.”

Felix rolls his eyes at Dimitri’s proper mannerisms. He was raised in a family with a lot of money- even his uncle was wealthy enough that Dimitri never had to worry about adjusting his lifestyle when he went to live with him. He spent a lot of his time volunteering in various communities since he didn’t really need to have much of an income. He claimed it was good for him as well- that giving back contributed to his healing.

It was because of him that Felix was dragged into attending yet another social gathering.

Dimitri volunteered at one of the LGBT centers in their area, where he helped coordinate a group centered around queer parents and couples who desired to have children. The meetings would alternate between informal conversations and activities to group therapy sessions where it was a safe space to open up about the struggles of starting a family. Topics covered everything from conception all the way to sending your kid off to college.

Felix hadn’t shared much yet. He usually left the room when they spoke of certain subjects. Even the reminder kicks that would stick in his ribs when he sat in the same position for too long didn’t distract him from the real reason he couldn’t participate.

He hadn’t felt ready to open up to a room full of strangers about how he’d lost his first child. Even after he’d discovered he wasn’t the only one there who had.

There were Linhardt and Caspar for example. Caspar had gotten pregnant while he was on testosterone and didn’t realize it for a while because, even though he’d been told it could happen, he’d never really considered it as a possibility. He was surprisingly open and positive about it, though his partner still seemed muted and sad.

Dorothea and Petra were currently planning to adopt after a failed IVF treatment. Two of the eggs had taken and survived into the second trimester. Dorothea suffered some blunt force trauma that caused the placenta to detach. One of them had already died inside of her when she went into surgery and it was too early to hope the other could mature outside of the womb. She hadn’t told them much more, and Felix was already feeling ill from the information he did know. Watching the way Petra doted on her, he was convinced her wife was a huge reason why Dorothea could even share what she did without succumbing to the devastation.

There were a lot of people here today. It’s more than he expected.

Claude is sitting next to Dimitri, at the crux of the circle. He laughs at something he said that makes Dimitri blush after he’s whispered it into his ear. It’s Dimitri, so it could easily be something innocuous, but Felix still doesn’t want to know.

Claude winks at him, which is a little startling. Felix wasn’t aware that he was staring. He’s a little uncomfortable today. The way his child is laying on his bladder has made him need to excuse himself to pee more times than he cares for. Nobody here so much as bats an eye at his stomach, even the staff outside the room, but even in a safe space, just existing in public has always been enough to make him anxious.

Dimitri clears his throat, signaling that he’d like to start. Today is one of the more informal days. They’re having a potluck, which made Annette, Mercedes, and Ashe eager to come. Neither of them were planning on starting a family anytime soon, of course, but it was an open invitation this week.

Poor Annette was pining away for an oblivious Mercedes even now as they were sitting next to one another and listening to whoever had something to say as they made their way around the circle. Annette swings her legs and giggles nervously as Mercedes hands her a chocolate croissant. Mercedes’ genuine smile is something that even Felix struggles to frown at.

Felix had brought something today, in lieu of a speech. He felt the weight of it pulling at his heartstrings even as it laid carefully in his bag beside the chair he’d chosen. On his left, Ignatz is busy sketching Ingrid, who has a plate full of food that rivals Felix’s. He doesn’t get what’s so inspiring about her in this particular moment, but it’s good that he has a muse.

Felix’s concentration flutters in and out as his mind wanders to different subjects, none of which are particularly important, but serve as a good enough distraction from the heaviness of what he carried in his bag and also in his stomach. Petra and Dorothea are planning a trip somewhere way down south where Petra was born. It’s an island he’d never heard of before. That’s nice. It would be a while before he could even consider going somewhere like that with Sylvain.

Mercedes has a conference coming up soon where they’ll be teaching about some of the newest techniques in child birthing and proper aftercare. That’s good news for him, seeing as he’ll be counting on her to help him through it, but it’s a little too close to his due date for comfort. She assures him in front of everybody, to his horror, that it’s only a half days travel at most, so even if his water were to break it’s very unlikely that she wouldn’t be there in time.

Yeah well, his life had taken unlikely turns before and it wouldn’t surprise him now. He pokes at his stomach, where he knows by the heaviness that his kid had curled his back up against him, in a silent warning for them to stay put until everything is good and ready for them to come.

Finally his turn is next and he doesn’t even listen to what Ashe is rambling on about. Probably another one of his fantasy books. He wishes sometimes that Ashe could be a little more normal and just be obsessed with Game of Thrones like everyone else, but the guy actually reads history books so he can compare them to modern YA bestsellers for fun.

He slips the canvas out of the bag and keeps it turned inward so no one can see it yet just as Ashe has to be interrupted by Dimitri’s polite remark that he’s well over the time limit. Felix looks down at it instead of around the circle when he turns it around and waits for a reaction.

Nothing really comes. The atmosphere is still as pleasant as it was and he looks up to see smiling faces, waiting for him to do whatever he pleases with his time. He doesn’t smile back, unable to summon it in the face of sharing something this personal to him, but it gives him the strength to continue and he does manage to thank them for it later.

“This is a painting that I made. I lost him, my first child.”

It’s all he can say really. His breath already chokes him off at the last word. Healing is a never ending process. He’s merely finding another spot to mend today. There will be others to attend to tomorrow.

There are some people in the room who know more about it than others- from Ingrid, who was among the living in a house that masked itself with a years worth of mourning, to Petra, who had learned just yesterday that most Americans did not know how to properly crack open a coconut. He allows the painting to be passed around and admired by everyone, and the silence that surrounds the circle is not one of pity.

He knew he’d start crying, but nobody mentions it, if they notice. All attention is on the memoriam of his son as he pulls out some tissues and discreetly wipes his eyes. By the time it makes it back to him, he’s gathered enough control over himself to put everything away.

Claude is the first to speak. His voice is soft with not a trace of playfulness when he addresses Felix.

“Thank you, Felix. What an amazing painting. It means a lot that you shared it with us.”

Claude’s hand is loose on his stomach. Everybody here is well aware he and Dimitri have been wanting to try for a family, but only recently decided to go for it. There’s been no signs of it working out in their favor yet. Felix knows that his presence in the group is, in itself, a huge source of encouragement.

Felix clears his throat, trying to think of something to say that won’t kill the mood.

“Yeah, sure.”

That’s the best he can come up with. Well, they’re used to it by now. He feels tired already. That’s all he ever feels lately: tired, hungry, and horny. It’s far from his favorite combination.

Of course, it doesn’t take long for a room full of gays to change the atmosphere. This time, it’s Caspar. Actually, it’s Caspar a lot of the time.

“Hey, Ignatz, what do you have there? Oh cool! Is that Ingrid?”

Ignatz stammers and tries to hide the sketch. He blushes as the unnaturally blue haired man follows it from over his shoulder, laughing at his reaction while Ingrid sighs and knits her brows together. She tries to look like it’s just the commotion that bothers her but Felix can tell she’s flattered. _Huh_. They’d make for a finicky match, but as long as it didn’t disturb his gallery he’s fine with it.

“I said it’s not! Now can you let go? My art is precious to me. You’re going to rip it!”

“Nah, it totally is! It looks just like her. It’s awesome!! Why don’t you want her to see it?”

Felix scoots his chair from the vicinity of the ridiculous spectacle that’s quickly unfolding before their eyes. Petra, Dorothea, and Annette are laughing and cheering Caspar on, while the rest of them, himself included, are reserved, if not looking directly at Dimitri with exasperation that he hasn’t stopped them yet.

“That’s enough, Caspar. It’s really none of our business. I’m sure Ingrid will get a chance to see it later.”

Linhardt’s hand on his shoulder is what calms Caspar. Just looking at the man makes Felix feel a little sleepier. How does Caspar still come up with so much energy after spending most of his time with him?

“Aww okay Lin, but you should really ask him to see it. It’s great!”

Soon afterward the group begins to disperse. There’s no set end time, really, but Felix and Mercedes are some of the first to leave today. Thankfully, she’s only coming with him to drop him off and will be going after she’s given him a short checkup. He’s had enough socializing and is really looking forward to getting back to the couch that Sylvain left him on.

He checks his phone once they get to the car to see if Sylvain sent him anything on his break. There’s the usual gushy texts that Felix pretends he doesn’t care about but actually really likes, followed by some not so safe for work ones and a picture that’s indecent enough to make him glad he waited until after he left the center to open it.

He glances at Mercedes, relieved that she’s completely absorbed in driving and ignores the picture, only responding to the questions he sent. Sylvain really was an asshole trying to work his pregnant husband up when he knew he was already horny and wouldn’t be home for several hours.

Sylvain responds right away, which surprises Felix. Apparently he’s leaving soon because they’re ahead of schedule. Felix hums happily, already thinking about the way he’s going to make Sylvain pay for his teasing this morning and the texts he sent. Mercedes joins him, thinking he’s trying to make up a song and he doesn’t have the heart to tell her the truth.

* * *

  
Mercedes hands are always so cold on his stomach. He never really looks forward to being touched there, but having her as his midwife has been the best alternative to returning to a hospital.

He’s always hated hospitals. They were a source of emotional distress even before Glenn died and all of the things he had to go through in the progression of his transition. He went in, once, just to confirm that he was, indeed, pregnant, and that everything was fine. As soon as he made it out of there he began looking for another way to do this. He couldn’t handle the idea of someone he didn’t know seeing him and having to handle his body that way.

Annette and Mercedes have been close friends for a long time. He was initially skeptical when she introduced her to him, of the person and of the practice, but Mercedes had a rather calming effect on others just in her natural presence.

“Oh my! They seem exceptionally active today!”

Felix winces as another ferocious kick causes the position of Mercedes’ hand to fluctuate. He swears this only happens when women are touching his stomach. Sylvain’s specific brand of perversion better not be genetic.

“Don’t you have anything you can give me that will make them shut up and go to sleep?”

He pokes at the waves in his stomach, only provoking it more, and grimaces. He’s already running low on space here. After today’s checkup, Mercedes has given him an estimate of six more weeks of this at the very most. He’d be fine with it getting the hell out now, if he’s being honest.

“For the baby? No. For Sylvain? There are a few items I can retrieve from the trunk of my car if you’d like.”

Felix snorts. He had come to enjoy Mercedes’ company far more than he anticipated. He’d never foreseen something like this happening. He’d simply wanted to try and start the family he’d dreamed of as a kid, and he has. There are so many people in his life now who care about him and Sylvain and their child. It’s incredible how many people can come together in the creation of a new life.

“That won’t be necessary. Thank you, Mercedes.”

_Her smile is like sunshine. Even if her eyes are a bit vacant sometimes._

She lets herself out when she’s done, because Felix decides he’s never going to get up from this couch by himself again now that he’s laid down on it. Sylvain can pick him up later and move him if he wants, he doesn’t even care. He’s fucking exhausted.

Felix places his phone down on the table beside him and nearly drifts off to sleep. The window is slightly ajar and the breeze that floats in smells like their garden. Everything is so soft and warm and his kid is finally laying silently in a position that doesn’t make him want to piss or wheeze. He tries to hold onto consciousness, because Sylvain should have been home by now and he wants to stay up to see him. Maybe he stopped by that all day bakery on the way home. He really could go for one of their strawberry cupcakes…

The buzz of the phone startles him from his sleepy stupor, causing him to knock it onto the ground. Felix curses and tries to pick it up without bending and agitating the baby but its too late. They’re kicking upward now and he really thinks he’s going to need to invest in some new organs soon.

His heart nearly stops when he sees the number. His hands shake so much that he can barely pick up.

“Hello. I’m trying to reach a Mr. Felix Fraldarius-Gautier?”

His mouth moves without his brain having to tell it to- which is fortunate because his brain is too busy currently trying not to set everything in his body on fire.

“I’m him.”

The breeze wafting through the window is no longer comforting. Suddenly, everything in the world outside of the home he’s made with Sylvain seems chilled and ominous.

“I’m calling on behalf of your husband, Sylvain Gautier. There’s been an accident.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on twitter to hear me yell more about FE3H
> 
> https://www.twitter.com/thefriedpipes


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a heavy chapter, so I wrote it in a way where it can be skipped without missing any of the main content. 
> 
> Content Warnings for:
> 
> Hospitals  
> Mild depiction of injuries  
> Surgery mention  
> Threatened preterm labour
> 
> Please let me know if I missed any triggers and I will be sure to update them!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m kind of going through it right now and writing has been really difficult. I may not be able to update as frequently and/or the quality may be lacking.

Three times.

Three times in his life, Felix has received news that plunged him into a darkness he didn’t know how to recover from.

Glenn.

Levi.

Sylvain.

They tell you that trauma can become manageable with work and with time. You may get better at noticing the signs, sensing the warnings before they come, and by a certain point in your journey, planning for the panic. Truth is, when trauma is repetitive, all the foresight in the world can’t save you from the inevitability of it’s execution. It’s bullshit. It doesn’t get easier with succession. The reaction is merely accelerated. The end of said events become a little more predictable.

Predictability isn’t always a comfort. There are some injuries that have no remedy. The cure and the curse of the living is in our irrevocable relationship with death.

* * *

  
Nothing about a hospital is reassuring. It is not a place of healing for Felix. It’s a prison for the sick and the dying and the desolate victims of the reaper who hangs, invisible, drinking the tears of a grief that only comes from the privilege of those who were well loved.

Felix has a history with death that is personal beyond what he’d consider normal. Death wears his cloak, stares him down with the amber glow of coals that burn his skin when the image bleeds into reality. How many times now had he killed himself just to live to die again?

If death were to take another person that he loved today, it would take all that is left of him.

Felix didn’t even hear what came after the news. He could barely make out his own voice- low and quiet and numb and just another unrecognizable factor he couldn’t afford to focus on. He hangs up, his ears still buzzing with the message that rips him soul from body and texts Hilda. He can’t call anyone right now. He knows she’ll understand.

He doesn’t dare speak yet. All of the words he has must be able to fit within a single breath. The moment he sees Sylvain, in whatever state he may be- that breath is reserved for his husband. 

It could have been minutes or it could have been hours, but Felix still remembers the moment he felt the prickle of Hilda’s pink hair brushing his shoulders as she lifted him from the couch. It’s not the arms he wants, not even close, but the familiarity of it is enough to keep his knees from crumpling and bringing his body down to the center of the earth where it feels like it belongs.

Hilda’s voice is gentle. Her hands are warm as she leads him out of the door and into the car. She smells nice. _It’s a mild floral scent— hibiscus?_ Everything is still very muted, but she is real and she is with him.

He holds onto that. He holds onto that and he hopes that he can handle anything else that may come.

* * *

  
Felix didn’t realize until he was too old for it to make much of a difference, but there are so many people in this world that cannot hear how everything that exists makes a sound.

It follows him everywhere he goes. He can’t escape it. It pokes and prods at him and lifts the layers of his skin one by one, slipping underneath to merge with his nerves and blend into his blood.

The fluorescent lights are an unnatural screeching that tears at the junction of his ears and his jaw. The swish of scrubs as the doctors approach their patient’s tearful companions is the wind that beats on the window during a sudden summer storm. The constant hum of bodies gathered together in silent apprehension is a symphony dragging the dirge until it becomes a round descending into an inconsolable chaos. Everything has a frequency that can be felt and converted into noise.

In a place like this, the dead scream, and the agony of those living in pain is likewise as loud.

The worst of the culprits is the steady beeping of the monitor tracking the intangible tempo of Sylvain’s heart. It measures the rise and the fall and the hitches in Felix’s breath as the reaper whispers wicked promises of an end from the corner of the impossibly small room. It’s so impersonal. Felix hates it. He wants to reach into Sylvain’s chest and wrap his fingers around that heart- feel that it is real and strong and will stay with him. 

Sylvain’s face is covered in jagged cuts. They’re mostly superficial, but the one above his left eyebrow will surely scar. He looks peaceful. His breathing is low and even. They didn’t need to intubate him, thankfully. Felix doesn’t know that he would be able to handle being alone with Sylvain if they’d done that.

His arm is.. his arm..

They were able to save it. He hasn’t asked to see it. He’s too afraid. It’s set and heavily wrapped and probably shouldn’t be disturbed anyway by the way the doctors were muttering about it. Maybe they weren’t muttering. Maybe it’s merely now that Sylvain is here in front of him, Felix’s mind is filtering any other sound.

The hand that he is holding also has lacerations. They’ve been cleaned and bandaged, but Felix is still wearing gloves as a precaution. He can feel the warmth of Sylvain’s hand anyway- his promise to Felix of the strength that is always there for him if he needs it.

Sylvain is an artist. He needs his hands. Felix needs them too. How can Sylvain lift him up while they’re like this? What if…

What if he isn’t able to hold their child?

Felix moves one of the hands he was using to cup Sylvain’s larger one down to his stomach. They’ve been uncharacteristically subdued. Perhaps they’ve withdrawn in the face of grief.

He doesn’t like it. It would be better for him if those animated kicks and flips and nudges were here to remind him of what our life begins as. He moves Sylvain’s hand to the place where he feels the heaviest presence, hoping that it will spark something within him.

Nothing. Sylvain’s touch has never made Felix feel empty, but right now his chest is concave with the effort of restraining his wheezing. It’s not the time to fall apart— not yet, when he knows so little of what happened and what is happening. One of the doctors stands to the side of the bed, checking Sylvain over and it makes Felix sick to watch so he turns his head. They tell him they’ll return after checking some test results and retrieving documents, but he can’t find it within himself to respond.

He leans forward, cupping Sylvain’s hand again and kissing around the lacerations. 

“You said you’ll always come home to me, Sylvain.”

A tiny kick, something more of a flutter, meets the combination of their hands when Felix scoots forward as much as possible and brings it back to rest high toward the top of his abdomen. It could be a trick to his ears, but the syncopation that interrupts the pattern of Sylvain’s steady breathing feels like a genuine reaction.

“We’ll always be waiting.”

* * *

  
Sylvain’s arm is broken in three places. One of the breaks is bad enough that they recommend surgery, but Felix doesn’t know what to do about that. He doesn’t want to choose for Sylvain. What if he chooses wrong? If he makes a mistake it could ruin Sylvain’s life. Sylvain could lose his job, some of his autonomy, and the ability to construct meaning through his art.

He should be waking up soon. The medication they gave him will wear off. Felix will ask him then- if he has any breath remaining after he tells Sylvain just how much he loves him.

He feels Sylvain’s hand twitch before he regains consciousness. He’s lucky the doctors are nowhere to be found because Felix needs this moment between them to remain private. Sylvain’s weak groan of pain already holds the potential to shatter him.

Sylvain shifts and grimaces when he finds himself unable to perform the familiar habit of running his hands through his hair. His eyelashes are so heavy, fluttering rapidly to chase away the remnants of sleep. Felix squeezes his hand ever so slightly, trying not to put pressure on any of the cuts.

Sylvain turns his head to look at him, groggy and confused. It’s one of the most heartbreaking faces Felix has ever seen him make.

“Felix..?”

He’s not sure if the whisper was intentional or if it’s all that Sylvain has to give. Either way, the burn of tears forming is the only response he has. Sylvain punched all the breath he’d saved up for him just in the deep, ragged, call of his name.

Sylvain’s eyebrows draw together in concern— concern for Felix even though _he_ is the one laying in the hospital bed with bruises and cuts and broken bones. He lifts his hand shakily and tries to touch Felix’s face. It falls short, but Felix grabs it and lays it on the side of his cheek. Sylvain clumsily manipulates his fingers to catch the tears when they begin to fall.

“S’okay. Love you.”

A wail forms in Felix’s throat that he is able to restrain into a whine. He knows that he can’t, but all he wants to do is crawl into bed with Sylvain and kiss every part of his body that’s been hurt. Sylvain arches his neck and shoulders toward Felix as if he shares the same wish, but stops with a mixture of surprise and pain when the movement pulls at his arm. He blankly takes in the appearance of his worst injury.

“Shit.”

His focus is sharper now when he returns his gaze to Felix, whose tears have slowed, but will undoubtedly continue to come in waves.

“Is it..? How bad?”

Felix swallows. He might have more information to give if he hadn’t tuned out the doctors and nurses that came in, but he’s not sure if he would even be able to say anything addressing Sylvain’s condition. As it is, he struggles to find any words he’s certain his lips will actually follow through on forming.

“Sylvain..”

That’s one he’s memorized. The vibration of his husband’s name on his lips warms Felix even though he didn’t process them moving.

“You..idiot.”

Sylvain coughs, but Felix can tell he was trying to laugh. He doesn’t see what’s so funny about it. He must not realize just how much of a mess he looks. Sylvain brushes Felix’s bangs back, leaving his thumb to smooth the crease of his eyebrow. Felix didn’t realize just how tense he was. He immediately softens under his touch.

“Shut up. I fucking love you. Don’t ever do this to me again.”

* * *

  
It hardly takes Sylvain a minute to decide that he’ll get the surgery. The prognosis for a full recovery with some physical therapy is good. He’ll be released much sooner, and should be able to go back to work within six months.

His hand is lying on Felix’s stomach the entire time he talks to his doctor. Felix doesn’t even consider moving it from exactly where it belongs. When the nurses come to ask him if he needs to be checked over as well, he dismisses them with a shake of the head and a grunt as he places his own hands gently beside Sylvain’s.

The kicking is more painful than usual and whatever they’re doing in there makes Felix feel like his lungs have abandoned him. His abdomen ripples in a repetitive movement that makes him bite his lip to prevent an admission of pain. His back is killing him, a dull constant throb that he was able to ignore until he started cramping up as well. He’s not surprised- he doesn’t remember just how long he’s been sitting here in this position.

Sylvain slots his fingers in a familiar gesture of tenderness that Felix is grateful for. They are alone again, but who knows how long that will last. The staff is off preparing for the surgery to proceed as soon as possible and even though they say it’s low risk he cannot help but to worry. The separation will be hard, but Sylvain managed to convince him to go home and get some rest. Someone will bring him back after he’s slept.

Felix hisses as his stomach tightens and doesn’t release until signaled by a flurry of agitated limbs. As much as he hates to admit it, he does need to sleep and probably get some kind of protein shake so the kid will stop making such a fuss. He doesn’t remember the last time he ate or drank something. All of this makes him feel sick. His body never was good at handling the effects of stress.

Sylvain makes a noise of disapproval, pressing a little harder into his abdomen and feeling around to test the texture. Felix pushes his hand away as gently as he can. It was already painful and uncomfortable. He didn’t need any extra pressure from the other side of it.

“Felix…that doesn’t feel so good.”

 _Yeah, no shit. It feels even worse from the inside_. He bites back the sarcasm in a form of restraint earned only by the reality of Sylvain’s current situation.

“Neither of us are exactly at our best right now, Sylvain.”

Sylvain purses his lips, contorting the cuts nearby. He stiffens when he tries to put his hand back on Felix‘s stomach but his husband turns away from him, attempting to hide behind a mask that Sylvain long ago learned meant he was in pain.

“I’m serious about this, Felix. That’s happened a few times already since we’ve been alone. Can you please have someone check that out before you leave? Please?”

He can’t see Sylvain’s face from where he is, but Felix knows what it looks like by his tone. He sighs, not wanting to argue about this right now. Sylvain has done so much to support him through everything, so for once, he’ll swallow as much of his fear and his pride as he can and allow somebody he doesn’t know to help.

“Fine. I’m only doing this because you broke your arm. Don’t get used to it.”

Sylvain doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t try to force a smile. He looks at Felix like it could be the last thing he sees and it scares the shit out of him. Felix doesn’t break the eye contact even though it’s the most intense and prolonged stare Sylvain has ever given him. He doesn’t have a clue what’s going through Sylvain’s mind.

He doesn’t have the chance to ask. The spell is broken when the doctors come in to speak to the both of them before they prep Sylvain for surgery. Felix is already beginning to disassociate again. The pain in his back and stomach and the sudden frenzied activity of his child is the only thing grounding him. He’s faint, but feels the need to stand and walk around. He suddenly needs to get away from all of this.

It’s a mistake to stand so quickly, but he doesn’t realize it until it’s too late and he’s tipping forward onto the bed. Felix clutches his stomach instinctually with one hand and braces his other on Sylvain’s thigh. The room is spinning and there’s nothing but acid for him to vomit yet it feels like the force of it would be intense enough to send his kid shooting out if he isn’t careful enough.

Multiple pairs of hands help him back into the chair, where he groans in relief and finally releases a whine of pain. The unfamiliar feeling of hands in gloves prodding him would send him into a panic if it weren’t for the sound of Sylvain’s voice assuring him and the presence of his thumb rubbing around the wrist that he does not flick.

Felix doesn’t process all of the questions they ask him, but he tries to focus in on the more repetitive ones.

“There’s another. They’re quick. Do you remember how many times you’ve felt your abdomen contract and release like this in the past hour? More than four or five?”

Felix nods, because while he’s not certain, that sounds about right. He’s sweating and not sure what Sylvain is saying to him, but he squeezes his hand all the same and tells him it’s fine.

“Okay, we’re going to have to check your cervix. I know it’s uncomfortable and unexpected and there’s already a situation here you’re dealing with, but it’s the quickest way to determine if you’re in active labor.”

Active… _labor?_ Oh no. _No no no no no. That is not happening. It can’t. Not now. Not while Sylvain.._

Felix grabs at his hair on the sides of his head and sobs, hardly aware that he had begun speaking his thoughts aloud. His body feels restless. The urge to curl up and rock is overwhelming, but he can’t, because there are so many people surrounding him and Sylvain that he can’t ascertain the space he is in.

Sylvain’s voice continues to be a foghorn in the mist that clouds his eyes and clogs his ears.

“Felix...Felix no. Baby…it’s okay. Trust them to help you for me, please. Please trust me. I’ll be back in no time. No matter what happens, I’m going to be here for you.”

Felix is seconds away from breaking into full on hyperventilation when he feels Sylvain’s lips on his cheek. He startles, unaware that he had become so close to him and blinks, realizing that he had leaned far forward and Sylvain had braced himself high enough with one hand to reach his face. He chokes, but continues to settle down as Sylvain kisses him again and again until Felix finally turns his face to meet his lips.

“See? It’s okay. I’ll still be here. Don’t worry about me, Just focus on keeping the two loves of my life safe.”

The tightness and cramping returns, but Felix’s mind is clearing. He nods at Sylvain’s request. It should be so simple right? He’s not the one going into surgery. They just need to check- he can let them do that. He can.

He lets the strangers whisk him out of the room, looking over at Sylvain the entire time, memorizing the way he looks when he says _I love you_. It’s a new face even when it delivers such a routine line.

He doesn’t say it back. He can’t when all it feels like is him saying goodbye.

* * *

  
The waiting is always harder than the pain. Time tells Felix tales that blur reality. It’s merely a concept, so why is it capable of hurting him so thoroughly?

He lies on his left side, occasionally drinking from a small cup at Mercedes’ gentle reminder. His water hasn’t broken yet, and while his cervix is a little softer than it should be, there’s a good chance the contractions will stop on their own.

It already hurts less, just by being in this environment. Mercedes doesn’t speak unless she needs to get his attention for a medical purpose. He doesn’t respond, putting all of his energy into willing his body to do just this one thing for him. If ever there was a time for it to listen, it’s now.

Mercedes keeps track of all the information they will need to determine if the hospital can release him. He’s feeling it all come now more infrequently and with less pain. His back is cramping more from the constancy of his position than anything. As the situation begins to seem less dire, his longing to be with Sylvain increases until it’s all that he can think about.

He begs the nurse when she comes in for any information about Sylvain’s surgery. It’s the first thing he’s said in the many, many, hours he’s spent staring at the wall and listening to the clack of Mercedes’ knitting needles.

She palpitates his uterus and Felix resists the urge to scream. She must sense it because she speaks to him in a low, hushed, voice, telling him that Sylvain is doing well. He’s almost done but will be sleeping for a while after due to the anesthesia. Felix wonders how long he’s been in here. His growling stomach gives him no answer. He’s not supposed to eat for 24 hours before he gives birth anyway, just in case they need to operate. But he won’t be giving birth here. He refuses.

He snatches at her wrist desperately, tears stinging his eyes. Her eyes soften, perhaps thinking that it’s from the physical pain, but he’s quick to assuage her that is not the case.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore. Mercedes has a log of how much time passes between each one. Please, can I see him?”

She hesitates, checking some of his other vitals before answering. Felix remains still, trying to be on his best behavior despite the absolute disaster brewing within him that he could unleash at a second’s notice.

“When he wakes up, if your condition is still just as improved, I’ll bring you over. How does that sound?”

Felix sighs deeply. He shudders at the physical release of anxiety that was held all bunched up in his shoulders. He nods, sipping more water while he feels the energy to sit up and do so, and settles more down more comfortably with the pillowing of the promise.

“Thank you.” He whispers. He closes his eyes, thinking of the last time he saw one of Sylvain’s true smiles.

* * *

  
Sylvain’s goofy grin is there to greet him even if the rest of him isn’t. He’s more foolish than usual, slurring his words and trying to leave sloppy kisses on the hand Felix has draped over into his bed. It reminds Felix of the night he came home drunk after he’d started college, right before the first time they slept together. He squeezes his husband’s hand so tightly he starts to shake. He never wants to let go of him again.

“‘Lix..Felix.”

How is it that hearing his name can still cause his heart to pound? Sylvain’s eyes are nearly closed. He looks so happy just by holding his hand, like he’s forgotten everything that happened.

“Baby..you?”

His eyebrows are drawn again. There’s tension in his jaw from the effort of trying to form words his brain and body can’t seem to cooperate on. Felix can read him well though, and he knows what he’s trying to ask.

“It’s okay, Sylvain. They’re fine. I’ve got some medication to take and a lot of rules to follow, but they’re going to release me before you.

Sylvain makes a happy noise, a horribly high pitched squeal that Felix would admonish in any other situation. He unclenches his jaw and exhales. The height of their danger was over. Now they just needed to tread carefully. As long as they have each other, they’ll find their way out.

“Good. M’ happy. Good.”

Felix shakes his head with a reserved adoration. Of course, some of it was from the drugs, but Sylvain really did just have that kind of a heart. He was worried, first and foremost, about Felix and their kid.

“Thank you for helping me earlier. Now go back to sleep. I need you back home with me.”

Sylvain sighs and settles deep into his pillow. He passes out within seconds and Felix continues to watch him, rubbing his thumb over the hand that’s fallen limp in his, until the nurse returns to take him away. They only monitor Felix for a few hours more until he’s cleared to leave with a long explanation of the very few things he’s allowed to do and a list to make sure he properly tracks any symptoms.

He sleeps on the couch, a few hours at a time, refusing to move until someone is there to take him to visit the hospital. One day, Sylvain is that someone, waking him with the barest brush of his bangs. He can’t lift him now, not yet, but Sylvain falls to his knees and kisses him like he did in that bathroom all those years ago, when Felix dared him to demonstrate just what all his dizzying words meant.

It turns out that even with one hand, Sylvain can support him. They walk together to their room, aching and exhausted and ready to collapse— finally resting side by side in the same bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on twitter to hear me yell more about FE3H
> 
> https://www.twitter.com/thefriedpipes


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has stuck with this story despite it’s ups and downs. There should be just a few more chapters until this series is done. :)
> 
> No more rough times. It’s smooth sailing from here on out for the boys and their bundle of joy hehe

Technically, Felix could give birth any day.

It was what they told him when he returned to the hospital a few weeks after he was released to turn in his list and check on his progress. It was what Mercedes confirmed when she visited the day before the baby shower and he couldn’t help but want a second opinion to prove them wrong. How he felt about it was…complicated.

Felix really would like to get this over with, on one hand. Yet, as he drags himself to the bathroom for the sixth time on the morning of the baby shower and catches a glimpse in the mirror, he freezes.

There’s no way all of that’s coming out of him.

He braces his arm on the sink counter, leaning in toward the knobs. Sylvain is in the other room and he could call on him if he really needed help, but he’s been trying to deal with his anxiety and panic on his own first. When the kid comes, it’s going to be between him and Mercedes and, sure, Sylvain will be there, but he’d better not get in his way while he’s shooting an entire person out of him.

Eventually the urge to pee outweighs the pull of disconnection and by the time he joins Sylvain in the kitchen, he’s centered enough to respond accordingly to watching what has become his favorite breakfast ritual.

Sylvain cooking with one arm was an easy disaster to foresee, but Felix didn’t know just how entertaining it would turn out to be. He really would love to nominate Sylvain to be on one of those British cooking shows, just to see him swear while he manages to create multiple reaction gifs per minute. He bangs cutlery and cookware and bumps into things as if his entire body was entirely off balance just due to the sling cradling him at the elbow.

Felix snorts as a ladle goes flying backwards and lands a few feet away from him while Sylvain tears through the cabinets, unconcerned about the mayhem he leaves behind in whatever he is searching for. Felix has half a mind to pick it up and tap him on the shoulder with it, but the pressure in his pelvis and the way he’s started to waddle reminds him that it’s not worth it. He’s not supposed to be up for as long as he has as it is.

“Aha! There we go. Felix is going to love these.”

Sylvain still hasn’t noticed him through the cacophony of his cooking. Felix sees a large mixing bowl next to him and decides to announce his presence by finding out what’s inside it. His stomach tightens in a way that he’s gotten used to in the past few weeks as he shuffles over. It’s no longer a sign of danger, just an annoying reminder that his uterus is still occupied.

He swipes at the inside of the bowl, sticking the finger in his mouth and humming at the taste. It’s a little bland, but there’s the presence of warm spices that make his heart sing. It’s a good combination these days. He definitely wants more. A kick from inside him agrees.

“Felix! God… how can you still manage to sneak up on me when you’re that pregnant?”

Felix smirks, dipping a different finger back in to swipe at the edge despite Sylvain’s outraged protests.

“Calm down, my hands are clean. I just came from the bathroom. What is this? I like it.”

Sylvain grins sheepishly, brushing his fingers through his hair. He’s so easy to praise. Felix isn’t usually one to indulge him this early in the morning when he’s still adjusting to moving around in this body, but he feels more agreeable today. Maybe he’s just feeling a little happier lately, since he’s going to have his kid soon and all.

“I’m making crepes! I bought some toppings we’ll both like, from sour to savory to sweet.”

Felix smiles, eyes still glued to the batter, already thinking of the combinations he’d want. “What are you waiting for then?”

Sylvain pushes the bowl away and steps into it’s space, grabbing Felix’s finger and putting it into his mouth regardless of the fact that it’s already been licked clean. He winks when Felix flushes, but only nestles closer and places his other hand on his husband’s stomach.

“I’m waiting for you, my love. Isn’t it obvious?”

Felix squirms— not in an attempt to free himself, but to help release all of the emotions rising within him that have nowhere to go. He’s so full of everything right now, he might burst. Sylvain being home all the time, even with them both incapacitated to some degree, has meant that Felix is subjected to every one of his romantic whims. It’s dreadful— truly.

“I’m huge.”

It’s his half hearted attempt at getting Sylvain to back away, even though they both know it’s not what he really wants. He does also want to skip ahead to the part where he’s on the couch again, inhaling crepes, though, so Sylvain needs to let go of him if only for that.

Sylvain kisses his temple and pulls back, leaning down to place another kiss on his stomach. The kid kicks him right on target as he retracts, wincing at the surprise, and Felix laughs as he meanders over to the couch.

* * *

“I..I know you said no gifts but… I didn’t wrap it, so please take this!”

Bernadetta thrusts a large lump into his hands before he can make out what it is. She shyly averts her eyes, blushing as she looks down at the floor as if he wouldn’t accept something she obviously put a lot of work into. They’re hats, he realizes, different kinds- in a variety of muted colors.

“I know it’s summer right now so I tried to estimate what size they’d be when winter comes. I made them a little bigger just in case and I can adjust it if you need...I figured you’d care more about them being practical so I didn’t make them too colorful…”

Felix touches her shoulder gingerly, stopping her nervous shuffling and cutting her off with an “ _eeep_!”. He smiles down at the mound of hats.

“I like them. Thank you.”

She nods, still adjusting to the energy of the atmosphere as more people file in. Felix moves back to his favorite spot on the couch, trying to make himself as comfortable as possible as he prepares for something that will be incredibly socially draining.

Mercedes and Annette are busy chattering while they set up games that Felix will 100% _not_ be participating in. It’s taking them much longer than it should because Mercedes keeps on getting distracted and Annette has tripped twice over pieces so small he can’t even see them from where he lays not even five feet away. Their hands brush every so often and he sees them blush without acknowledging it. It could easily be the heat, but he knows better.

“Hey! Felix, how are you feeling? Do you need us to get you anything?”

Claude is hanging off of Dimitri’s arm, coy smile on his face as his boyfriend scratches the back of his neck. He’s wearing clothing that is a little too loose and heavy for the weather in Felix’s opinion, and Felix wonders briefly if they will be here again in half a year celebrating the coming of Claude’s child instead.

“Hot. I need the kid to make up their mind and get the hell out or the sun to die— preferably both.”

Claude snickers and pulls Dimitri in closer, teasing him as he blushes and protests the action in front of Felix. Felix just snorts and lets them banter. They weren’t the only ones who were going to be loud and affectionate today.

“Alright!! I love pin the tail on the donkey!”

Caspar pumps his fist in the air as he pulls Annette in for a hug, causing the little pile of pictures and pins to fall around them.

“Ahh! Caspar! They’re all over the ground now!”

“Awww it’s okay, I’ll help you pick them.. Huh? These don’t look like tails..”

Annette giggles. “They’re not! It’s not really pin the tail on the donkey…more like put the baby in the Felix! Here’s a print out I got from a medical book of a uterus…and these are all photos from when Felix was born, see..”

Sylvain laughs as he comes around the corner, carrying a cake. “I already won that game a long time ago.”

Felix glares at the three of them, very aware that perhaps 10 minutes has gone by since people started arriving and it was already beginning to drive him crazy. They had better settle soon or he was going to send them all away until they came back with a high force fan. He needs at least five of them by now, thanks to how unbearably hot it’s become. 90 degrees might not sound like a big deal, but it was just too much when your body becomes an oven constantly set to 450.

“Come on Fe, don’t look at me that way! I’d love to play it again, but we have company..”

Sylvain delivers the cake to the table, swooping down on the way back to scratch at Felix’s scalp. He frowns at the slight distress he sees on his husband’s face and the way he seems to be reacting to the heat. He pushes his palm underneath Felix’s bangs to feel his forehead.

Felix makes to pull away, but stops at a calming whisper in his ear. He sighs, trying to relax and not pay attention to Ingrid lecturing Caspar about being aware of his body while Linhardt looks on with amusement. Bernadetta stacks the books that fell from the shelf Caspar accidentally knocked over while Ignatz sits sketching in a chair a good distance away, apparently deciding that the scene was too good of a subject to pass up.

“Let me know if anything gets to be too much, okay? It’s supposed to be about you today, I’ll be sure to remind everyone of that.”

Felix nods, not looking back over his shoulder but reaching a swollen hand up to touch the one that’s loosely tangled into the bun, higher than usual, at the top of his head. Sylvain squeezes it lightly, while responding to something Hilda asked him from where she peeked around the opening of the kitchen. It’s likely just another task that she wants to delegate.

Mercedes brings Felix some ice water, smiling as she sits next to him and watches over all of their other friends.

“I’m so glad to see everyone getting along like this. You know, Dimitri told me what it was like before he started bringing you. Apparently, there was more of a divide. He was able to get individual people to open up to him, but there wasn’t as much of an interaction between the group as there is now.”

Felix keeps busy sipping his water while she talks, not sure if he will be able to answer as expected. He’d thought they were always a fairly aggressive and open bunch. He didn’t particularly understand his role in all this.

“It’s been such a short time for you to have brought about such a change. It just proves how easy you are to care about, Felix.”

He almost chokes as he places the water on one of Sylvain’s coasters. He can feel the flush creeping along his face and he resists the urge to fan himself, sticking to pulling at the collar of his oversized shirt instead.

“I haven’t done anything. I just show up..”

He trails off, watching now, just as Mercedes has been doing. It’s true that everybody looks happy. They seem comfortable. It makes him feel a little less anxious to know it. Dorothea giggles as Petra squints through Ignatzs’ glasses- her hands waving in front of her face as she tentatively tries to walk away. Ingrid guards the bookcase with a territorial anger that even Felix would steer clear of.

Mercedes touches him with one of her ice cold hands, making him sigh into the relief of the difference in temperature. Her saccharine voice is soothing through the jumble of noises.

“Sometimes, that’s all we need to do.”

* * *

The rest of the activities Annette set up weren’t that bad and Felix easily excused himself from participating in them. He did threaten to burn all of the pictures in that horrifying pinning game. How she even got access to them is not something his blood pressure would prefer him figuring out at the moment.

To everyone’s surprise it’s Linhardt that wins at bobbing for nipples. He spent more time yawning in between each successful attempt than he did in the actual bobbing, but it created the perfect amount of space to get it on the first try. There was only one rubber nipple left when his head fully dipped forward under the water and didn’t resurface until Caspar pulled him away. Linhardt sputtered and coughed and seriously _did not wake up_ until the cake was served. He remained with his head in Caspar’s lap, blinking drowsily at Felix when etiquette demanded his attention.

Felix and Sylvain had firmly decided against knowing the gender of their child as soon as they passed the danger zone of the first trimester. It was readily accepted by their friends even without knowing all of the reasoning behind it. Felix didn’t want to compare this child to the one he’d lost, and he knew that it would be difficult to do no matter what they told him the gender was. He hadn’t made it far enough to know for certain the last time around, and the lack of information tore at him. Now, they’re choosing to look at it the omission as a way to heal from their expectations. There’s something so freeing in just allowing themselves to be happy with whoever comes.

Additionally, Felix’s relationship with sex and gender was different from the majority of the population. Being transgender means something different to every person in their community. What it meant to Felix was that he had no expectations as to how they’d develop their gender identity as they grew. He’d always accept his child however they are and whoever they choose to be. It’s something that most parents claim they’ll do, but many don’t keep to the promise. He felt most comfortable setting the standard before his kid was born, so they could truly enter in on a blank slate to leave their impression on the world.

It made the number of activities simple to whittle down once they eliminated the factor of gender. Felix would also NOT be allowing anyone to guess the size of his stomach. That’s information even he doesn’t need to know.

“Agh! Some of these are too slippery!”

Sylvain curses under his breath as he not so slyly tries to peek from under his blindfold. His hand is so big it barely fits inside the little bag of baby items that’s been passed around the circle for the guests to guess what’s inside. Felix is the only one not participating since he organized the bag and knows exactly what’s there. He’s enjoying this part of the shower the most- being able to sit back and watch as people react in confusion and frustration.

“It’s probably your hands that are too slippery, Sylvain, judging by the obscene amount of lotion you pour on them daily.”

The circle laughs at the delivery of the statement in Felix’s droll tone and Sylvain juts his lip out pathetically with the hint of a whimper. Felix rolls his eyes at the call for attention, but reaches over to stabilize the bag as Sylvain tries to dig through it again. He _is_ down one arm at the moment, but Felix knows he really just wanted his husband to touch him.

“Love you, Fe.” He whispers out of the corner of his mouth like it’s some kind of a secret. The intimacy of the moment blocks out all of the other sounds flowing around them.

Felix squeezes his thigh as he leans in to take the bag and blindfold from him, as well as the answers he will tally on the card. They’re all wrong, but it’s okay. Everything else about Sylvain is just right.

“You’d better...” He says in a voice that is not quite as hushed as it should be. “..because I don’t hate you.”

* * *

The sunset is particularly late that night. Felix spends the last few hours of the day in his favorite place— curled up against Sylvain’s chest. It’s been a bit of a struggle to find positions that don’t strain their bodies, but Felix is determined to start and end every day like this.

Honestly, he’s still afraid. He doesn’t know if the fear of losing the people he loves will ever go away. Such a thing is inevitable, but the human heart tries to push the sentence out as far as it can go.

Felix traces the planes of Sylvain’s bare chest, letting the hairs tickle his fingers as he allows the numbness to spread. He doesn’t know how to prevent this moment from happening. He’s not good at sharing his feelings in a way that’s readily accessible, especially when it comes to naming his fears.

Yet, Sylvain is the only one who’s been able to deeply understand him. He’s the only one who actually took the time to search his soul and accept all that he found. He can tell Sylvain this, and if he can’t, somehow Sylvain will still find a way to know.

“Sylvain.”

Sylvain shifts, breathing soft and even on the top of his head. As angry as it used to make Felix feel about their height difference, he’s privately grateful for the way he can curl up into his husband like this. It makes his confessions seem just a little safer.

“Yes, dearest?”

Felix breathes shakily, pushing his face as close as he can into Sylvain’s neck, letting the smell of security that is Sylvain’s natural scent steady him.

“Promise me something.”

Sylvain’s hand takes to stroking his hair. Felix desperately wishes that he had access to his other hand. It feels incomplete without the heaviness of his palm on the small of his back or the middle of his stomach.

“Anything, Felix.”

“If I… if something happens.. and I.. will you..?”

Sylvain’s hand stills. He slowly runs it down Felix’s shoulder, fingertips like a low flame that simmers the pot without shaking the lid. He reaches Felix’s own hand and squeezes it gently, before bringing it to his lips for a kiss.

“The only thing that will happen is you’re going to give us the most incredible gift— something I never could have dreamed to hope for. You are resilient and capable, Felix. I thought I knew it already, but I’ve seen so much more of your heart through all of this.”

Sylvain releases his hand and Felix immediately moves it back to his hair, bumping his stomach up against his husband in an endeavor to meld himself as close as possible to the solid wall of support. Sylvain laughs at the awkward attempt and resumes his petting.

“We’re going to raise them together, Fe. I know you can do this.”

Felix hums affirmatively, wincing at the kick aimed upward right into his ribs. It’s so cramped in there. They must not appreciate the extra pressure of their two dads cuddling, but they’re just going to have to deal with it. He needs this.

“It’s not long now, Sylvain. Mercedes and those other Doctors said..”

Sylvain kisses him, cutting him off with a shocked noise that relaxes into soft sigh. He wasn’t aware of the tension he was carrying. As soon as the shock wears away and the tension is released, the fire in his chest ignites and he pushes back at his husband with a neediness that is both emotional and physical. He’s not sure where Sylvain should touch him first, but he has to start somewhere or he’s going to lose his mind.

“Sylvain—”

Sylvain pulls back, his hand tracing up the side of Felix’s face and stopping to rub at the temple exposed by the slant of his bangs. There is still more than enough light left to see the way he looks at Felix- like death could bow its knee in the presence of his devotion, like time itself could not steal him away.

Sylvain’s one hand is worth the exchange of the world to Felix. It is enough to brace the weight of the heavens and quell the howling of hell that stirs inside him when the night beckons it to rise.

“Whenever they come, we’ll be ready. I’m right here with you.”

Felix falls asleep to this promise, under the umbrella of scarlet waves that will seem harsh to his eyes when the daylight passes through the follicles and wakes him. The nights of quiet confessions and silent, sensory, communication between just the two of them are waning. They’ve learned how to welcome it- the beginning and the end, the open and the close. It’s a good life to live, walking side by side with the ones you love, catching and cherishing those you come across— Felix rises from his grave with the sun and sets to the path again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on twitter to hear me yell more about FE3H
> 
> https://www.twitter.com/thefriedpipes


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry for the longer wait in between updates. Without getting too into it, I recently left a very toxic relationship and have been dealing with plenty of unforeseen consequences which kept me busy as well as too exhausted to invest into writing. Things are looking up though, and I can’t wait to finish this series! I have an epilogue planned. :)
> 
> CW for birth, nothing too graphic, but it’s an emotional event and I tried to keep it as realistic as the few ones I’ve had the privilege of attending.

In the final few weeks of his pregnancy, Felix reacted as if he was actually becoming insane. The pressure in his pelvis was a constant nuisance. In fact, just about everything regarding his body bothered him now. He was bound to kill someone at this rate.

It was one of the hottest summers in decades and with a practically full term infant stretching his body to its limits he felt every god damned degree of it. Felix was more than a little uncomfortable with the idea of wearing a tank top with how swollen his chest had become, but after nearly overheating during one of his far too frequent waddles to the bathroom he settled for an old, breathable, shirt that essentially functioned as a crop top now. He gratefully wore it every day from the moment of discovery.

At this point, he was beyond such simple embarrassment as an exposed stomach in his own home. He was more than okay with hypothetically flipping off anybody that came in to stare at him. Not that he needed to- Sylvain learned quickly not to make amorous jokes about it and Ingrid couldn’t care less as long as he didn’t lie naked on the couch.

He could barely move from his favorite spot on said furniture without cursing, but the mouthful someone got if they were unfortunate enough to land on his shit list was enough to clear a consistent path. Even Sylvain was wary of his anger— it didn’t discriminate. He was also Felix’s constant companion while he was on medical leave and the poor redhead caught very few breaks between all of his husband’s fluctuating, and sometimes frivolous, demands.

“That’s not right. Move it again— a little more to the left and down toward me.”

Felix’s newest obsession had been in adjusting the crib and he’d keep an extraordinarily patient Sylvain busy for hours griping about how the position of everything in the room needed to compliment it. There wasn’t enough time or energy for much more than the essentials after dealing with the consequences of the accident, although Sylvain commented that he did want to decorate more thoroughly later. They decided to use the den for now, as Ingrid still occupied the spare room. It was a baby— how much space could it really need?

“Felix.. it has to have been close to a dozen times that I’ve rearranged the nursery by now. I get that you’re nesting, but I’ve only got one arm over here.”

Felix huffs, narrowing his eyes dangerously. Everything he did nowadays could be considered dangerous. He shouldn’t be so intimidating, all red and round and swollen like this, but he somehow always found a way to maintain that image of ferocity.

“I am _not… nesting!_ I’m not a fucking bird. It’s just not right, is all.”

Sylvain restrains a sigh. Moving it again wouldn’t help. Nothing he could do would make it right. He knew the drill by now- eventually Felix would just become too frustrated by the imperfection of it all and give up. Then, he’d sulk, and Sylvain would hold him until he complained of the heat again.

Felix had stuck to that same routine for six days in a row and Sylvain already thought he might lose his mind. The redhead had gone so far as to secretly ask Mercedes if there were any ways he could induce labor just a _few_ days before the official due date. She’d scolded him, of course. He didn’t really mean it in a bad way. Felix was miserable and he’d do anything to change that.

“Okay, fine Fe. You’re not nesting. Can we take a break though? My shoulder is killing me here.”

Felix scrutinizes the crib, eyes scanning in some strict and invisible discernment. Sylvain leaves him to it, clenching and unclenching his fist to test it’s function.

“…that will do for now _.”_

Felix shuffles forward, placing a hand on one of the rails and dragging his fingers through the ivory ribs of the crib in a silence that steals Sylvain’s breath away. Moments like this, seeing Felix so alive and tender and vulnerable, almost make him believe in magic. If anyone that didn’t know him were to walk in they would think he was praying, and surely some god, somewhere, must be ready to answer with all of the power at their disposal. His eyelashes draw downward toward the dip of his chin, delicate against the flush of his cheeks. His small smile lights up the room like a little line of fairy lights– soft and inviting. It’s a rare gift- a reservoir of rest shared with very few people in his world. Sylvain could lose himself in it for hours, has lost himself in it for hours, and never once regretted a single moment of his focus.

From the child he carried, to the teenager he comforted, to the man that he married— Felix has always been the person who made every day feel like something new. Every little emotion channeled through movements only his eyes caught on to, the slight variance of his scoffs and facial expressions, the adorable flushes that gave away how pleased he was when he couldn’t find the words to demonstrate- all of those things renewed Sylvain’s faith in humanity. Felix was nothing like his parents, proper bullshit and gilded expectations, or his brother, a bully without hope and a dangerous urge to prove himself despite it. Felix was so undeniably real and passionate. He didn’t worry about status and would never consider doing things that made him unhappy for merit. A life in love with Felix lacked all of the toxic pretenses he was raised to believe in, and Sylvain would have it no other way.

Little things, large intentions. Felix taught Sylvain how to dig into the deeper meanings. He still does. He’ll always love Felix for the way he challenged everything he grew up not to question. Even now, the only thing he’s certain of is the desire to die together while holding his hand.

“I think.. it’s alright, Sylvain. It just— it won’t feel complete until they’re here.”

Sylvain draws near, draping his body around his husband so lightly that the current running between the air separating their skin from complete contact seems to bear enough electricity to power their house for days. His free hand splays over his favorite spot on Felix’s stomach- at the point where their child often rests their head.

“They’re here with us now, Felix.” He pokes at the bump and receives two very irritated responses that have him nursing his fingers only seconds later.

“Sentimental fool.. you know what I mean.”

The way Felix’s lips move when he grumbles like this could be considered declarations of his undying love. Sylvain knows how to read them like Braille. He sees them in the darkness of his dreams, and would not need to hear to know exactly what it sounds like when they curve around syllables of insults that hold more heartfelt concern than all of the lukewarm praises he’s received. Felix’s words have always been tangible to him. Sometimes, it’s the only thing that makes sense.

He laughs by the corner of Felix’s ear. How many times has he spoken into it before? How many screams of pleasure and pain? So many small seeds of hope and admissions of failure sprouted and flourished and died there over the decades. How many more days would he get to spend by his side, their arms now wrapped together around the life they created? Whether it was just one, or thousands more, Sylvain would not take them for granted.

“I know. I’m just as eager as you, my love.”

* * *

Hilda brought Felix the spicy chicken curry from their local Indian restaurant he’d been craving all week long the night he went into labor, and to this day he’ll never let her forget it. When he awoke, sweating with cramps, and feeling an even more intense pressure than usual, he assumed it was an unfortunate side effect from the food his body had no interest in consuming during the past few months. His complaints weren’t yet loud enough to wake Sylvain, who snored loudly somewhere above his ear, unaware of his round, disheveled, husband rolling off the side of the bed and teetering toward the bathroom.

Felix grimaces as he steadies himself against the wall long after he’d finished. He felt a strange combination of lightheadedness and the extreme urge to continue walking. There wasn’t even a destination in mind, he just…knew that bed was not where his instincts were leading him.

A banana sounded suddenly enticing to him, so he carefully followed the dim light coming from around the corner of the kitchen. The tightening of his abdomen earlier was a little sharper than usual- perhaps that explained the craving?

He rubs his stomach, internally promising relief, as he turns the corner to see the culprit of the unexpected glow. Ingrid sits crossed legged in front of the ajar refrigerator door on the kitchen floor, spreading goat cheese and jam onto little slices of sourdough bread, humming in delight. He restrains a snicker, watching her as she makes her way through several of them, and ignoring the additional discomfort of his body in favor of allowing himself to have a little fun over the discovery.

“What is it..2:37AM? Really, Ingrid? Is that necessary?”

Ingrid startles, and nearly drops her snack. Her cheeks are pink with the embarrassment of being caught in what, for her, is a sacred moment. She scowls at him, but continues to chew the piece she’d begun before he’d made his entrance. Felix cant help but feel a little gleeful over causing the reaction. How many times had she taken the opportunity to rub the same situation in his face?

She swallows, and starts slathering another, voice calm as she provides her reason. “It wasn’t going to last until morning. It wouldn’t do to let them go to waste.”

Felix rolls his eyes as the kid rolls forward inside of him and kicks with enough force to almost cause him to buckle over. His abdomen pulses painfully, and his back is beginning to act up with it. He needs that banana. Now. _Ugh_ , but he’s becoming nauseous. Why did he work so hard to convince Hilda he needed that curry earlier? He’d even _begged._

“Whatever. Pass me a banana. I need to lie down.”

Ingrid raises her eyebrow, but quickly returns the items to the fridge before tossing him the fruit. He fumbles it and curses, glaring at where it lies innocuously on the ground. Ingrid’s eyes sparkle with amusement at his blunder and he can’t even blame her. It was ridiculous how clumsy he’d gotten, in the past week especially- center of gravity and all that.

“Give me another— hand it to me this time. There’s no way I’m picking it U—ahhp _fuck!”_

He almost steps on the banana and slips( and wouldn’t that be some kind of foolish early 20th century comedic bullshit), but instead stumbles backward until he’s braced against the wall, breathing through the waves because _that actually hurts._

“Felix??” Ingrid is beside him before his next blink. “What’s wrong?”

It dawns on Felix that this is not the normal tightening he’s experienced since the horror of the hospital as the waves subside and he slinks gracelessly to the ground. He exhales, feeling determination and apprehension warring within him already. Ingrid’s concern is palpable, and he doesn’t have the energy to tell her that her palm on his forehead is useless and distracting. He’s not sick, this is natural— and if he loses his focus, possibly terrifying.

“Go wake up Sylvain, then call Mercedes. I think it’s starting.”

* * *

Sylvain is already sitting beside Felix and looking forward to wringing his hand by the time Mercedes arrives. A lantern nearby provides the glow she needs to observe him by, as he vehemently refused a stronger light. Sweat beads on his forehead that Sylvain wipes off with a damp cloth. The sun will rise soon and give them a honest look at how the other fares. Felix frets over appearing exhausted and weak, even though with everything he’s going through it’s to be expected. It’s only been a few hours and he’s ready to get it over with.

“You’re doing so well, Felix. It’s coming along, my love.”

Sylvain squeezes his hand before pulling away to continually dab at his forehead. Felix’s irritation is sky high. He bites back curses as he squirms at the sensation of his midwife checking on his progress.

“What do you know? You’re not a midwife! I’ll believe it when I hear her say so.”

He snaps at his husband, but clunks his head sideways against Sylvain’s neck softly in an admission of his need for security. He really didn’t want any verbal encouragement right now. Sylvain would be more than welcome to spoil him with praises later when it will all be covered by his screams anyway. He bites his lip as she brushes up against his cervix and the pressure coming from both sides makes him want to whimper. Mercedes shoots him an apologetic glance a few seconds before she retreats.

“Sylvain is right, Felix. You’re just about dilated to six centimeters. Do you feel up for walking soon? It will likely help the labor progress quicker.”

Felix shakes his head. The urge from hours before had disappeared. He _was_ numb from the positions he’d tried shifting into, though. The floor was cold and hard, but he’d refused to let Sylvain help him back to bed like this. He needed Mercedes to show up and give him her permission first.

“That’s fine. Even so, we should move you somewhere else. That tile can’t be comfortable.”

He acquiesces to this, grateful for what must have been the dozenth time that he’d chosen to work with her instead of some pushy stranger. Sylvain and Mercedes brace him until he’s in a wobbly standing position, giving him as long as he needs to adjust before he compels them to move again.

“Couch. Please.”

He collapses there, breathing heavily as he loses track of the hours. All that he knows are the moments of pain and no pain, and whatever time in between that is becoming less and less. The numbers Mercedes report to him don’t raise fast enough, in his opinion, and the sun is ready to dip below the skyline once again before he’s able to focus on her voice telling him the first good news he’s had since he’s last slept.

“You’re at a 9. I think we should move you to the birthing pool now. You’ll be more comfortable soon— I promise.”

Felix’s hands are in a death grip on his stomach, as if he could somehow hold the waves back and push down the erratic activity of the baby clamoring to get out of him with his trembling white fingers.

“There’s no such thing. Tell me— why the hell did I do this again?”

Sylvain’s hand is strong on his shoulders, ready to escort him. He never thought he’d admit it, but being carried by Sylvain to the birthing pool sounds like a great idea. Of course, now would be the time that he’s incapable of it. Felix reminds him so later, with a fist curled into his nightshirt and curses that would make a sailor blush. 

“C’mon, Fe. You can do this. Just a little longer. We’re here with you.”

His hand gripping hard enough to leave marks into Sylvain’s good arm is the only response he gives. The pool has been set up in the living room, with the all the furniture pushed aside, and everyone else who would be in the house banished until further notice. It’s quiet, and cooling with the sun receding, save for his labored breathing, and the eventual slosh of the water as he slips inside.

“I feel like a whale.” He complains, despite the immediate relief of the lukewarm water. Sylvain gathers all of the little hairs that have fallen out of his tie and pulls it back into a firm bun. The pull of his scalp is grounding against the willowy waves of the water, disturbed by his shifting. Felix looks up after a sharp cry of pain to see his husband looking pale while he watches the contortion of his stomach. The contractions weren’t even to the point of pushing and the kid was just as impatient as he was. How much longer would he have to put up with them playing football with his organs?

“Mercedes… I need to push. I can’t— I won’t make it much longer!”

His voice sounds distant and desperate in a way the three of them had never heard before. He doesn’t retain the energy to care. All he knows is that if he doesn’t push soon, he’ll die. He feels like he might split in half with the desire. His body is begging him to do _something._

“Just another moment, Felix. You must be getting close. Let me check again.”

Mercedes hands seem less invasive in the warmth of the water, or perhaps he really is just that focused on the end goal. He’s got to be ready— right? His body wouldn’t be that cruel to hit him with such an intensity that couldn’t be fulfilled right now after all he’s been through.

“I’m sorry, you’re still at a 9. There’s no telling how long it might take to get that final centimeter, but I shouldn’t let you start pushing just yet.”

Felix tears at his hair, groaning and swearing. He trembles in the pool, wanting to throw a fit at the unfairness of it all. Instinct told him to bear down and his body was going to start complying no matter how hard he tries to restrain himself. He tells Mercedes so, and waits, panting and growling, while she stares at him, deep in thought, before moving her hands back into the water to check him again.

“Well, they’re certainly in the correct position. I can try to stretch the last bit if you need it, but the head seems small and if you’re really feeling like your body is ready to take over— I’ll supervise it as long as you promise to stop if I tell you to.”

Felix laughs with a profound relief, immediately releasing into a push along with the contraction he’d felt building during her entire explanation.

“ _Thank you._ I am…grateful for you, Mercedes.”

He grabs her hand, squeezing in what he hopes is an appropriate amount. It’s kind of hard to focus on anything other than the pressure. He rides it out while she guides him, face already red from the exertion and gasps when it’s over, reaching around to brace himself against any part of Sylvain he can reach in shock.

Mercedes nods, mentally noting the time, and giggles at the reaction of the two as they gape at the addition of a small, slightly misshapen, mound that could only be the first glimpse of their child’s head.

“Oh my! They sure are in a hurry to get out, aren’t they?”

Sylvain’s breathing is just as ragged as his, and just hearing it after the previously stunned silence pisses Felix off, honestly. Here he was, willingly becoming a human prune squeezed within an inch of his sanity and Sylvain has the nerve to lose his composure over a few centimeters of skull. He scowls, craning his head, and softens a bit when he sees how overcome with anticipation and joy his husband is.

Unfortunately, he’s also staring just a bit too intently at the space between Felix’s wide set thighs, standing on his toes to see over the protruding stomach. Felix flushes and prepares to weakly push him away, using one hand to also attempt to preserve any privacy he may have left.

“Stop staring— Sylvain, snap out of it! That’s not helping.”

Sylvain shakes his head, raising his hands and teetering back to a proper standing position.

“I’m sorry, Fe! It’s just— it’s so soon. I didn’t expect..”

Felix slaps at his arm superficially, grunting as he feels the premonition of another contraction coming. “You..! You wouldn’t think it’s so soon if you were the one giving birth right now. It’s almost been an entire day!”

He turns to Mercedes, his eyes pleading for it to be over with, and braces himself against the side of the pool, allowing Sylvain to offer his arm in support while he shifts upward. He balances precariously, placing one hand firmly on the shallow bottom and gritting his teeth as he moves through the motions of the intense pressure creeping downward again.

“Get this thing out of me. I don’t care how.”

Felix doesn’t know how long it takes after that, but he distinctly remembers four more pushes, each starting with him positive that his head will split open with the effort. He starts to panic as he feels Mercedes’ frantic hands twisting his child around gently to ease them along and the sound of Sylvain singing praises in his ear. It’s all too much— it’s too overwhelming. He needs this to be the last contraction or he’ll choke from the physical and emotional toll.

His final push falters as quickly as his cries cut off in amazement when Mercedes lifts the slightly bloodied infant from under the water. Sylvain has just enough time to suck in a breath alongside him before a loud wail breaks through the atmosphere and Felix’s heart swells to a size that should burst from the front of his chest with every rapid pump.

Mercedes immediately brings the newborn over while Sylvain eases him backward into a comfortable position again. Tears sting Felix’s eyes at the sight and feeling of the child he’s waited so long for finally shivering on top of him. It’s so much lighter than he anticipated. It’s no heavier to him than the feeling of Sylvain’s palms resting upon him as they lay together chasing their dreams each night.

Mercedes rubs at their skin, working a strange white substance Felix read was called vernix into their folds. The infant continues to cry, not seeming to appreciate the motion and the somewhat chilled air that’s become necessary to continue it’s life in this strange, bright, world.

“I’ll check her vitals later, as well as take her measurements, but for now it’s good to encourage bonding between you. She looks and sounds so healthy, Felix. Congratulations, you two!”

 _A girl. His daughter. Sylvain’s—_ Felix is so dazed, so exhausted, it’s takes everything that’s left of him to nod and hook an arm underneath her bottom. She’s so small. It seems impossible that this tiny, trembling, sniffling thing was the same child that wreaked havoc inside of him for the past nine months.

His breaths come shakily as Mercedes begins to dry her face off, focusing especially on the thick tuft of hair that puffs comically at the point of her head. It was dark when she emerged, and he hadn’t even thought to check, but it’s becoming more obvious as the moments go on and it changes from soaked to dampened that genetics did indeed favor his wishes. It resembles a rich cherry red at the moment.

“So good. You did so good, Fe. Felix… she’s so beautiful. I can’t—” A choking sound causes Felix to snap from his stupor and look upward. He almost bumps his head into Sylvain’s skull, not realizing just how close he was. The moisture on his shoulder isn’t just from the sloshing of the water, he concludes, from the wracking sobs that carry themselves like laughter across the still night of their living room.

Felix has never seen him shed these kind of tears before. The halo of his hair almost obscures them- but nothing in the world would be enough to conceal the way his eyes are shining.

Felix smiles, wrapping his fingers around Sylvain’s hesitant hand and bringing it forward to touch his daughter for the first time. Sylvain makes a noise somewhere between a whimper and a coo. His hand dwarfs the infant’s coiled back. He could easily shift her back into the older man’s palm without fear of dropping her. The thought warms Felix far more than he anticipated.

“ _Vivian.”_

As if she was waiting all this time to hear Felix call her name, dark, unfocused eyes open to meet the adoring gaze of her parents. Felix spirals down and down and down again, but instead of meeting the darkness he is accustomed to, he is thrust into a sudden and astonishing holy space reserved for the three of them. 

They weep together, a sound so open and poignant and free. Vivian grabs a wandering finger and unfetters the chains of past and present and future within a single second. It’s the fastest Felix has ever fallen in love, and he knows Sylvain feels the same.

“I dreamed of you. Thank you for finally coming to me.”


	12. Chapter 12

Summer was once Felix’s least favorite season. Heat was something his body loathed under the layers he draped himself in to soothe his mind. Even if he did come to Portland from chilly Michigan, Felix never could stand any sign of the rising temperature; It reminded him of the days he spent trying to make himself disappear, while the rest of society shed their skin like it was a passing whim. His brother’s old sweaters and jeans that dwarfed him as child weren’t enough to truly stave away that blaring difference in their comfort levels.

As he grew older, it was harder to find the balance between what was admissible for him to wear without drawing attention and what wouldn’t trigger the scrutiny of his self image. He clung to his hatred of the middle months of each year long into his transition, still remembering all of its pains.

He’s 39 now, and Summer is associated with better things: Sylvain rubbing sunscreen onto his shoulders while he whistles with the cheerful chirps of the birds overhead, the smell of grilled meat and vegetables wafting through the high wilted grass of Dimitri’s backyard where the group gathers every Sunday afternoon to rest while Claude entertains their children, and the taste of cherry kool aid in a plastic cup pressed to his lips by a giggling Vivian. Summer isn’t a warring of his body against the elements. Summer is family and friends. Summer is health and happiness and home.

It was once a secret tradition for Felix to write a letter to Glenn, in remembrance of him, on every anniversary of his death— but no longer. Instead he writes on Vivian’s birthday, July 27th, to tell him about her. Felix folds the paper, many times over, until it is small enough to place into an unsealed envelope and slip into the waiting hollow of his most intimate piece of furniture. A dark cherrywood end table with a single drawer sits at the furthermost corner of the den, untouched through the decades since Sylvain built it, save for this very purpose.

It’s getting too full now, Felix notices, as he meets resistance when he opens it. He’d expected this scenario to happen eventually. Soon, the letters will need to find a different shelter. Felix sifts through the pages carefully, organizing them by date, and cannot help but to skim through some of the more recent ones as he goes.

_Dear Glenn,_

_I told Vivian during our first week together as a family that she had an Uncle. I told her about you so many times, It’s safe to assume I was speaking in my sleep for a few nights._

_She’s so tiny and fragile. I’ve never been terrified of something this small in my life— I guess it’s the stupid hormones making me overemotional about her in a way I can’t suppress. Mercedes gave me her measurements and I compared her weight to ours. She’s three pounds, five ounces less than you were and one pound, four ounces less than I was. Sylvain was, as you know, abnormally large for a newborn, so it came as a bit of a shock. She’s healthy, however, and that’s all I dared to hope for._

_This body that failed me on so many other occasions decided to create a way for me to feed her. I was opposed to it, at first. The connection is, at times, too much to bear. Still, I want the best for her, and after all I went through to have her here with me, it’s a temporary pain that’s well worth the benefit. The sight of her in the crook of my arm has been reason enough to keep me going. We still need to supplement half of the time anyway. It allows Sylvain to have his own opportunity to bond with her. He adores her so much; it’s only going to get worse as she gets older. I’ll have to be vigilant to make sure he doesn’t get ridiculous and spoil her too often._

_I wish you were here to help me keep him in line. We’re both sleep deprived, but at least Sylvain has regained the use of his right arm again. Holding her seems to be his favorite activity. Sometimes, I wake up to see him rocking her in the shadows, though she is already asleep._

_I’ll never let him catch me doing it, but I always try to stay awake a while longer to watch them._

Felix smooths the letter and places it in its proper order alongside the rest. The sun gleams through the open window, creating an unattractive stream of light through the center of the pile. He doesn’t mind it, or the smell of exhaust from the teenagers racing down the street in chase of a cheap thrill. It can’t distract him from the full feeling in his chest.

He examines another, after skimming the small selection remaining. Felix recognizes the year as one of his favorites.

_Dear Glenn,_

_Vivian is four now, and she doesn’t speak much. I saw how similar we would be in that aspect by her first year._

_That isn’t to say she’s quiet; She’s Sylvain’s daughter too, after all. She’s active, even if she prefers to be left alone. There’s a corner of the garden set aside just for her and she’s learning how to care for the flowers with Ashe and Dedue. Annette taught her a “magical song” that will apparently make sure they grow exceptionally strong even while they’re sleeping. She hums it nonstop now and even if it’s annoying, I find myself joining her. Kids really do their damndest to change you._

_I’m not worried about her behaviors like some of those asshole psychiatrists have suggested to me. She’s happy and we know it, even if the world doesn’t. I see her smile in ways that are unpredictable to them. I see it in the way she sits so still for Sylvain as he brushes the tangles from her hair early every morning. It’s wavy like yours- and like our old man. It’s the richest shade of auburn I’ve ever seen. I get to touch it when I wash it every night, but Sylvain is the only one she’ll allow to style it. He’s so gentle and patient with her that she won’t let anybody else do it._

_He’s always putting hideous barrettes and bows on her head. She shakes them off sometime during the day, so it’s really not that offensive, but recently she’s taken to tapping him with her brush when he comes home and whining until he puts them back in._

_I see how she struggles to function as the doctor’s expect her to and I know it well. I’m focusing on teaching her only the things she’s interested in learning before this stupid society takes away too much of the time she has to exist as she’s meant to be. I mainly work by commissions again. It’s tedious, but I don’t begrudge how it allows me to raise the kid we created in the way I know she needs._

_I’m planning on passing the gallery along completely to Ignatz and Ingrid as a wedding gift. They aren’t engaged yet, not even dating technically, but he’s the only fool that doesn’t realize it. Ingrid’s shared her plate with him for months now— and even offers first pick. That’s practically a proposal, as I understand it._

“Dad.”

An emphatic voice from behind him interrupts his cadence. Vivian stands in the doorway and stares intensely at his shoulder, her eyes unfocused. They’re so bright like this, open and expectant, and innocent. She twists and turns her body with an impatient anticipation. Her skinned knees look out of place framed by the delicate sundress and shiny silver sandals his husband was responsible for. Dark red hair cascades down in loose waves, two little braids pulled back and away from her face, fastened with a white bow at the back of her head. Felix sighs internally at Sylvain’s insistence of playing dress up. It was only a Tuesday, and while it was an important one, Avery wouldn’t care what any of them were wearing when they went to pick him up.

Felix finishes folding the remaining letters and places them carefully back into the drawer. He’d revisit them soon. Vivian’s birthday was but three weeks away and he’d already begun writing about what will be her 7th year with them. There was a lot to say this time around, so he’d prepared two envelopes— one for his daughter, and one for his son.

Vivian tugs at his arm as he approaches, small noises bubbling in her throat as she leads him up the stairs and to his bedroom. She stops in front of the door with an irritated grunt Felix is particularly pleased she’d picked up from him and releases his hand. Her amber honey eyes are likewise narrowed in a trait resembling him.

“Go. Get Daddy— and Avery.”

Sylvain is late and that is no surprise. Felix enters to find him holding up two different ties to the mirror and frowning. His sky blue button down shirt is immaculately tucked into dark pants that hug the curves of his thighs in all the right ways. Felix drinks in the sight momentarily before scowling and approaching him, leaning against their dresser and raising his gaze to the satisfyingly smooth ceiling.

“Why are you wasting all this time trying to look like you’re going to church when we’re simply going to pick up our son?”

Sylvain bites his lip in a small laugh, placing the ties down on the table. He runs his fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his face as he takes in the reality of his formal appearance. There are a few greying streaks in it that Felix insists he keeps. He likes to stroke them late at night, when they shine their most brilliant under the moonlight.

“I really do look ridiculous, don’t I? I guess I’m nervous.”

Sylvain continues to stare at his reflection like it’s the first time he’s seen himself. Felix hears Vivian becoming even more antsy in the doorway. If he leaves things up to Sylvain they’ll fall more than a few minutes behind.

Felix forgets his spot on the ceiling and moves to put the ties away. He faces Sylvain, pulling the shirt out and unbuttoning those top few notches that appeared to be so confining. It’s a nice color. He’d painted with it a few days ago, when he was mixing a blue palette for a personal assignment. Vivian had been there, sticking her hands into the azure, then pointing at the sky. She’d drawn her own conclusions about what the image on the canvas should look like, so he let her have control and now it hung in her room next to all her other creations.

“You shouldn’t be. He already likes you.”

Sylvain swallows, and together they look out of the window at the wisteria tree Dedue had planted by their gazebo. It was a pain sometimes, but they’d learned to care for it after a few lessons from the gentle florist. It began blooming only this year- another thing to write to Glenn about. Felix had taken to a routine of sitting there under the canopy of lilac flowers with Vivian during the day, drinking lemonade, and by the fire pit at night with Sylvain, staring at the stars through the slots in the vines. 

Sylvain grabs his hand and he’s shaking slightly, so Felix can tell he’s actually anxious about this. He squeezes back in what he hopes is enough of an encouragement to get his husband to break away from where he’s fixated his focus outside of the window. Sylvain exhales, and accepts the gesture gratefully, turning and allowing Felix to move them back toward where Vivian twirls in a circle by the doorframe. She extends her uncoordinated dance into the hallway, stopping to brace herself against the railing of the stairs when she reaches it— laughing herself silly over the dizziness.

Sylvain chuckles as they walk through the house, a hand on the head of his eldest child. He smiles proudly at the many pictures of their family and friends decorating the walls. There was still plenty of space left for their son. He doesn’t let the conversation drop, however, as the looming threat of the front door inches closer.

“You can’t just decide he likes me because of the way he acted the last time we saw him. He’s two years old, Felix. He likes anyone who gives him goldfish and listens to him babble while he crashes trains into each other.”

Felix pulls it open, grimacing at the strong light that hits him full on before he ushers their daughter through it and grasps Sylvain’s wrist to pull him after, quickly locking the door behind him for the last time as a family of three.

“He’s quiet around the staff and bites anyone who offers him food from their hand— but I don’t see any teeth marks on yours. Let’s go, Gautier. I don’t want to keep our children waiting any longer.”

* * *

Avery was every bit as unpredictable as Vivian had been when she was his age, but the two couldn’t be more different. His downy jet black hair and dark grey eyes are striking against his olive skin. He’s solemn, where his sister is not, and Felix had assumed this meant he’d prefer to be left alone a good deal of the time. It didn’t take long to realize this wasn’t the case. Avery needed an open, peaceful, atmosphere, but he loved being around people and easily became distressed without the proper attention. Any aggression he’d shown at the orphanage must have been a result of the chaotic environment.

Sylvain was his favorite playmate, there was no question there, but it didn’t bother Felix because Avery would only slip into _his_ lap and ask him to read story after story, sucking his thumb and watching the words with a rapt interest until he fell asleep. By the time he was four, he’d switched over to asking his dad if _he_ could read the stories, and Felix could almost doze off by the sound of the soft, slow, speech patterns of his determined son.

As expected from this behavior, Avery’s vocabulary became quite expansive for his age. It was enough to skip him straight ahead to first grade and enough to send him home in the second week with a note explaining some of the questionable phrases that earned his suspension. Felix had a rousing suspicion of who to blame. He still owes Claude a kick to the back of the knee for teaching his son foreign swears. He’d hold on to that debt, probably, because Jasper tortured his father enough with his rambunctious schemes. At least he never feared to leave his children with the Blaiddyd’s, because between Dimitri’s mother hen personality and Claude’s shrewd eyes, they never got into _too_ much trouble.

Today was a little different, however. It was their first sleepover together and he was… reluctant to let them go. Felix grips the steering wheel with more force than is necessary as he leers over it at the Blaiddyd’s front yard. He tries to find something wrong with it, some reason to turn around and call it off.

Annoyingly, there was nothing he could use as an excuse. Claude had done an excellent job at curbing some of Dimitri’s more extravagant tastes. It looked as simple and welcoming as always. Well trimmed shrubbery and brightly painted bikes leaning up against the walls of the open garage greeted him long before Dimitri’s shining blond scalp made its way to Felix’s tinted windows.

“Felix? Is everything okay?”

Felix can see the exact expression on Dimitri’s face even before he rolls it down. He forces himself to breathe. This was supposed to be a gift, so why was it so challenging? When Claude had offered to take them for the night so he’d be free to celebrate the coming of his birthday with Sylvain, Felix had the good sense to accept. It was one of the few opportunities to spend some alone time with his husband— something they didn’t have much of anymore.

He’s saved from the indignity of coming up with a decent response when they hear a rustling in the bushes. An irate Dimitri moves away from the front window to pull a small, snickering, body from the now ajar back door. Vivian giggles as she reaches over to pat the wiry brown hair of the squirming boy in Dimitri’s arms. Jasper’s charming smile isn’t diminished by the fact that he’s missing his two bottom teeth, nor is it shaken by the red faced embarrassment of his father’s apologies.

“Jasper! Do not open somebody else’s door without permission!”

Vivian imitates the crooking of his finger, waving it in a chastising manner while she coos, encouraged by Avery’s soft laughter. Dimitri notices none of it, too busy fretting over his son’s unkempt appearance, brushing leaves from his clothes before rubbing the dirt off of his nose with his thumb. Felix groans and lets his face fall into his hands so they won’t see his own smile. What was he so worried about? Dimitri did enough of that for all of them. At least Claude would be there to lighten the mood. They all got along fine, and it was only for one night. He deserved this.

Felix leaves his face buried in the safety of the wheel as he hears his children unbuckle and slide out, only truly joining them to walk to the front door when he hears Claude calling Jasper’s name in a way that tells Felix the troublemaker was hiding in the bush for more than just the element of surprise.

He carries the last bag into the house and turns to leave after giving a short expression of thanks and a farewell, but he’s stopped at the doormat by a small fist tugging at his sleeve. Avery’s soft eyes are far too contemplative for a young boy who should be enjoying his first sleepover— even if it is with someone who functions more as another sibling. They pierce through Felix’s weak facade underneath the porch light.

“It’s okay, dad. You can call me if you get lonely. I’ll stay up.”

Felix’s own eyes are a little wet as he kneels to hug his son. Avery’s hair shines like obsidian and is fragrant as always against his cheek. It tickles Felix’s nose in a way that makes his chest tighten and his head hurt. He’ll have to pick up some allergy medication on the way home. It wouldn’t do to have them acting up tonight.

“Dimitri won’t be happy if you keep Jasper up doing that. I’ve got your daddy, and you have Vivian, so we’ll be alright. You’ll have fun with them all tonight, I promise.”

Avery nods over his shoulder and Felix stands again, giving him one last stroke through his hair. “Good. Good night, son.”

* * *

The house is quiet when it’s missing half of it’s inhabitants. It never seemed so quiet when it was just the two of them before. Felix restrains the urge to open the doors to his children’s rooms, knowing it will only make him feel lonelier to stare at their empty beds. He taps on the door to the bathroom instead, impatient to see what was taking Sylvain so long to draw their bath.

“Come in, my love.” Sylvain croons from the other side. Felix pushes the door open, a bit miffed at the realization that he could have entered at any time.

It’s almost too dark. The sound of the faucet’s slow drip is the first thing Felix notices, followed by the smell of tangerine and cedar bath oils that permeate the air. A soft glow from unscented wax pillars on the sink is just enough for Felix to see his path to the tub, lined with little tea light candles and littered with rose petals. Sylvain reclines with his arms and legs spread wide, waiting with an arched brow and a goofy grin that Felix immediately wants to wipe off of his face with a kiss.

He settles in, back against chest, instead, reaching up with a hand to rub at the scruff on his husband’s jaw. Sylvain had been maintaining its growth recently, as soon as Felix admitted to admiring the way the silver threaded through the bright ginger. 

“You are such a hopeless romantic.”

A delighted purr reaches his ears before Sylvain nips at one playfully. “Hopelessly romantic for _you._ Happy Birthday, Felix. Wonderful father of my two perfect children. Love of my life.”

Sylvain’s hands trace patterns on his stomach and Felix is already burning underneath their touch. The water is warm, but he shouldn’t feel faint from it. Damn him for being so intoxicating.

Felix arches as Sylvain’s fingers reach his curls, one hand moving his thighs apart while the other reaches in between to tease him. “You’re always saying such embarrassing things.” Felix manages not to sputter.

Sylvain presses a kiss into the crook of his neck. “Mmm. Embarrassing, but true. If you want me to stop, I will.”

“No…it’s okay.” He gasps as Sylvain finds a good rhythm, working him into little jerks. “That’s— don’t stop.”

Sylvain doesn’t stop. Felix tries to remain still, but can’t help reacting to the strong, muscled, body that ruts behind him as Sylvain whispers all the things he has planned for the rest of the night into his slightly dampened ear. The sound of water sloshing onto the floor isn’t loud enough to distract him from the throaty moans Sylvain makes alongside his. Felix arches up and reaches down, taking Sylvain’s cock into his hand and thumbs along the head, teasing him back.

“Babe.. come on, that’s not fair.”

Felix snorts, but bites his lip as their movements become more insistent. He turns his face to the side to take in the sight of Sylvain keening under the attention and feels a surge of pride.

“It’s my birthday. I get to decide what’s fair tonight.”

Felix slides against his length, smirking at the hitched sound Sylvain makes in response. Sylvain’s moans turn high and needy as his free hand claws at Felix’s chest, his nose in his neck.

“Felix… _fuck_ — I can’t..!”

“Hmmm?” Felix hums as he listens to Sylvain’s pathetic, choked, attempts at convincing him to play things his way and continues to take his time, working the slow simmer into a boil. His husband likes to pretend like he’s in charge, but it’s really so simple to get him to submit like this every single time.

Sylvain’s only hope is to hold on and move at the pace Felix set. Felix can feel him tightening behind him and knows he’s close. He considers letting him come like this, pressed against one another, hot and wet and squirming in delight, but decides against it. He wasn’t ready to finish Sylvain just yet.

He guides Sylvain’s head to his entrance and firmly stops it there instead, letting the pulsing of their sex speak for him. Sylvain groans in anticipation, setting off into a shudder that further gives into a gasp. Felix twirls his fingers into Sylvain’s hair and yanks it for his attention.

“Take me to bed and fuck me already.”

Felix does protest a little as Sylvain swoops him into his arms, carrying their still dripping bodies across the bathroom and throwing him onto the bed without drying them off, but it’s forgotten as soon as Sylvain is bending his legs back and sliding the head of his cock inside.

“You want me to fuck you, Felix? You need it that badly, don’t you— need all of me inside of you?” He rocks in a little further, teasing him with shallow thrusts. One hand holds Felix’s hip still while the other finds it’s way up Felix’s neck until he sticks his thumb in Felix’s mouth.

Felix spits it out, swiveling down and taking more of him. “Shut up. You’re the one who’s needy. Your thighs are shaking with desire and giving you away— degenerate.”

Sylvain curses and grips harder, falling forward with a groan as soon as he’s flush inside him. Felix grips his back and urges him on, shuffling upward in an attempt to get Sylvain to follow him further onto the bed and quicken the pace of his thrusts.

Sylvain is still just as close as he was in the bath and Felix uses the information to his advantage, goading him just like he did when they were young and first experimenting with power dynamics.

“You’re going to come so soon, Sylvain? It’s my birthday, but you think you get to finish before me? How typical. You—”

Sylvain growls and pulls out suddenly, making Felix gasp in surprise as he falls between his thighs, leaving wet kisses and love marks on the sensitive flesh until Felix is breathlessly begging for him to keep going. Sylvain teases at his entrance with two fingers, sliding them inside against smooth walls and curling them in all the right ways until Felix’s legs clamp shut around him and his curses are no longer whispers. Only when Felix cries out and pulses around his fingers does Sylvain begin tonguing at his cock, pulling it gently into his mouth to suck him through his orgasm.

“You— god damn it Sylvain.”

Sylvain’s mouth is still too busy to respond, but the cheeky bastard retains the ability to wink back at him. Felix raises onto his elbow and grabs Sylvain’s hair to press his face further into him as he fucks himself down onto Sylvain’s fingers, feeling close again within the minute. He’s lost the true edge, but at least Felix can maintain this level of control. His head is so fuzzy it’s hard to care about anything but clenching around those fingers again.

The second wave always hits harder and better and leaves Felix feeling much…spongier. He kisses Sylvain when he sits them up, relishing the taste of himself on his lips, and doesn’t resist when Sylvain settles his hips between his thighs again. Sylvain’s cock needs some desperate attention— just like the person attached to it. Felix moves into an easy position to take it, feeling Sylvain chuckle against his lips when he growls impatiently.

“Do you need me now, Felix? Now that you know how much I need you?”

Felix knows from experience that Sylvain will spend way too much time trying to engage him in dirty banter so he just agrees with him while he guides his cock back to the place where he most wants it to be. “Yeah, whatever. I need you. So stop talking about it and start fucking me. ”

Sylvain reduces them to a sweaty, wrecked, mess that night, and hours later, after they’ve cleaned themselves up again, Felix finds himself able to ask the question that’d been biting at him all week.

“Do you still think of them?”

It’s said as casually as he can manage, and truly, it’s the smoothest Felix has ever sounded when bringing up the subject. He doesn’t need to elaborate. Sylvain expected this to happen. It wasn’t every year that Felix asked, but it was always during moments like this, when they were alone and content and vulnerable. Felix continues to twist the ginger hairs of his husband’s chest, inspecting it for the very few glimmers of silver in the sparse patch.

Sylvain sighs, but sounds tranquil instead of tired when he responds. “I do. Not as much as I used to, but it happens with time. You know that.”

Felix nods. It was the same for him. He felt horrible when it first began to occur. During Vivian’s 5th year, he even forgot the anniversary. To be fair, he’d also spent much of the week of his birthday ill from a stupid virus he’d picked up running through the neighborhood after the twins at Dimitri’s previous potluck. Claude had been weighed down by two squealing passengers at the time or it would have been him. Petra and Dorothea promised they’d be better behaved at the next outing, but didn’t return until Claude enforced the “ Playpen for three years and under rule” months afterward.

“It’s okay to let go, Felix— you know that, right?” Sylvain continues, stroking Felix’s hair as he pulls him tighter. “You won’t forget them completely. A part of you will always remember how they changed you. You don’t have to keep reminding yourself.”

Felix nods again. “I know. I did. I did, a long time ago.” He hesitates on picking the right words to explain what he’s struggling with. They’re always hard to find. He forgets, when he’s so wrapped up in the correct ways to talk to somebody, that Sylvain doesn’t need any of that, because he knows his heart’s language and he listens, like nobody who could come before or after him does.

“Don’t let the guilt return, baby. Not like this. Not when we’ve fought to have what we have.”

Felix nearly chokes, because he hadn’t realized what the tightening in his chest was until he said it. “Sylvain—”

“Shhh. Rest. I’m here. Whatever you need to do, do it, but don’t fall back down the pit we filled together thinking you’re alone.” Sylvain grabs Felix’s hand, placing it on his thundering heart, so loud and quick and unsteady despite the soft, encouraging, support of his words. “It’s not just me with you Felix. I’m so lucky to have been given three children in my life, and they’re all in here, no matter where they are out there.”

Felix shuts his eyes tight, no longer wanting to see the way Sylvain looks at him— because it’s a truth that’s threatened to consume him for years and years now, and tonight, this is exactly what he needs. He rocks his body against his husband gently, able to peel away those last sneaky layers of grief on the action alone, laughing with relief. Sylvain laughs too, flipping onto his back and dragging Felix on top of him, pushing the bangs back and admiring just how long his hair had gotten when he pulls it forward to pool around his shoulders.

“Better, my love?”

Felix blinks the remnants of tears away, tasting where they ended their journey when he licks his lips. Sylvain’s eyes are brighter than the moon, twinkling like entire galaxies, the gravity of Felix pulling him in— ensuring they’re never separated, no matter which direction they’re turning.

“Yeah. Best I’ve ever been.”

* * *

_Dear Glenn,_

_It’s been 30 years since you died— 13 years since the first time my body carried a child. The number doesn’t matter. Age isn’t a true measure of grief, nor can it tell us how far we’ve come._

_Even so, Sylvain insisted on its importance. He misses you too. Ingrid as well. She married Ignatz last winter. She looked beautiful, but before she walked down the aisle she wept in my arms and asked me if you would forgive her. I told her it was ridiculous, of course, because nothing was more important to you than the right to fight for your own happiness._

_Vivian was flower girl and Avery was the ring bearer. They swapped clothes at the last second and ran out together, tripping their way toward the front. I’m sure you can imagine the look on Ingrid’s father’s face. They were just small enough to get away with it, and Sylvain still swears it was the funniest wedding he’d ever been to. He claims we should have done more than just taking them out for ice cream afterward._

_Vivian cut her hair just like Sylvain’s soon after that and took to swapping clothes with Avery more often. Avery sits still every night when she practices her makeup on him, but she doesn’t seem to be interested in wearing any herself. They’re only 11 and 6, so it’s not unusual enough to attract unwanted attention. Neither of them seem to be uncomfortable with their gender, but I answer their questions as best as I can when they have them. They’re good kids— smart and talented and kind._

_They mention you still. Vivian spoke your name aloud the other day when she overheard us whispering about the upcoming date. We don’t write it down on the calendar, but she somehow already knew. She repeated it a few times in confusion until Sylvain sat her down beside him with a pencil and pad of paper to explain. Her hands clasping and unclasping around the fabric of her leggings as she bounced herself to the secret tune of her vocalizations didn’t phase him in the slightest. I couldn’t have picked a more perfect father for her. I’m grateful for their communication, and how his desire to love her overrides everything else._

_She’s here with me today, to deliver your letters. This is the last one I’ll be writing— sorry about that. I wanted Sylvain to be here too, but it’s a long flight to visit your grave and he needs to stay with Avery. There’s a PTA this week. We have those now. It’s gross._

_The truth is, I’ve spent too much of my life fixated on the fear of avoiding death— so long that I became my own reaper. I used to believe that it should have been me who died that day. I believed it after I graduated, after I married Sylvain, even after I had Vivian. I knew that you wanted children too, and when I swept the little hairs from her forehead while she slept, there was a strange and hollow wound right beside the warmth of my love for her that wouldn’t close—it felt like I was a phantom that had stolen the life which belonged to you._

_I feel strong enough to stop running from it all now. Vivian has those same glowing amber eyes that haunted me, but they are not coals which crumble at the rumor of a swishing cloak. There is no darkness in her. I look at her and I am able to look at myself in the mirror again, truly accepting what I see. I look at her and I am able to believe that this cruel world is also capable of bringing us beautiful things._

_I’m not only alive, Glenn. I am living. You know I’m not one to bother with sentimentalities, but nobody else will see this letter, so I will admit to it— once._

_I am happy. I want to hug you as I say it. I want to tell you not to leave me alone on that porch in the early Michigan June, ignoring the mosquitos that flew around my ankles while I waited for you to drive back up the road like nothing had happened— but I also don’t. I don’t wish to rewrite my past anymore, because I’m certain there is a future for me out there that doesn’t need to be altered. I’m sure that’s what you would have wanted. It’s what I want for my children. It’s what I wanted for you._

_My life has been full of many things, but I’m emptying it of my regrets. I never needed them, yet they snuck up on me. It feels good now, to admit that suffering doesn’t make one weak. It only took me 30 years to understand. I’ll never let it go on that long again._

_I had you and I had Levi. I have Sylvain and Vivian and Avery. I have many friends now, Glenn— too many to list here, but their names are in the other letters. I’ve found the people I need to show me that I have myself too— that I am someone worth having._

_When I think of life in those terms, I can’t imagine I’d have it any other way._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to everyone who stuck through the hard times to make it here!! ❤️ I know it wasn’t always easy to read, but I hope the ending was worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> I am on [twitter](http://twitter.com/thefriedpipes)! Come talk more about fe3h with me 🤗


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